Walking the Dividing Line
by Aki-Chan04
Summary: Chapter 1 has been fixed! The 3rd story in the Lost Girl series. And not the last one... ;)
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam 

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam. I really, really want to, but that doesn't seem to be enough. They seem to want me to pay money for it. ;) 

AN: Um… okay so I realized part 3 was sitting up as part 1… so here ya go. Just to fix things. And by the way… there's a 4th one in the works…. ;O

Lookie! It's finally happening! I apologize in advance, parts are probably not going to come out as they did for Lost Girl. But they will come out. Promise. 

This is the 3rd story in the "Lost Girl" Series; if you haven't read The Lost Girl or Fall Away I don't care, but you might be a tad confused. ;)

Walking the Dividing Line

Part 1

*

Heero's gun swung back around to fix itself on my head once again. 

"Now," Heero said. "I'm going to ask you a few questions." 

I let the breath I'd been unconsciously holding go, and closed my eyes.

*

"You were lying the whole time." It wasn't a question – it was a statement. 

I opened my eyes, staring down the barrel of Heero Yuy's gun. I had been in this position before, barely a month ago. Nothing had changed since then, I thought. He'd believed I was a traitor then. He believed – no, he knew, because I supposed it really was true – that I was a traitor now. 

Looking into those cold blue eyes hovering over the cold black barrel of the unwavering gun, I almost believed I was a traitor now as well. A real traitor, not someone who'd only been told she was and couldn't even remember it herself. 

But I had no answers for him, no explanation for whatever it was he was going to tell me I did. *If* he would tell me what I had done… I couldn't remember a thing, I didn't know why I was lying here, tied down to this bed, facing down Heero and his gun. 

I had nothing left, so I just locked my gaze on his. 

Silence. The gun didn't move, his gaze didn't waver. The only sign that time itself hadn't frozen was the intermittent BEEP… BEEP… of the heart monitor. I vaguely wondered why they'd even bothered hooking me up to it in the first place.

"Tell me what you were sent here to do." His voice was cold, as cold as his eyes, as cold as the air. "Tell me why they sent you."

"What?" My throat hurt, ached almost as if from the outside. Like I'd been grabbed.

"What is your mission?" he demanded, pinning me down with that gaze and that voice and that gun.

"Heero, I don't *have* a mission. I don't know what you're talking about," I insisted, desperately trying to get him to believe me when I already knew it was most likely hopeless. I didn't think he'd ever stopped believing I was a traitor, not even when Duo and I had explained what we knew. Neither Heero nor Wufei had been able to fully believe that and now here I was, lying here for a reason I didn't know and being accused of something that he wouldn't tell me.

"This morning," he said tersely. 

"This… morning?" I repeated. What was he talking about?   
I started – I couldn't *remember* this morning. I remembered Duo – Duo grinning, Duo leaving, Duo leaving me cold and empty and lost. 

No. I had left myself cold and empty and lost, and I had probably done the same to him as well. 

I remembered Wufei – I remembered Wufei angry and annoyed. But that was all I remembered. Nothing more. 

"Heero…" I began softly, "I don't remember this morning." 

His eyes narrowed, glinting in the light coming from the window in the door, the only source of light in this room, the rest of it hidden in sharp shadows. 

"Don't give me that crap," he said. "I know you remember. I know you're an enemy. Don't think I'm going to forgive you this time. Duo may be willing to forgive you, and Quatre too, but they're both idiots who trust too easily. I don't. So don't give me that crap," he repeated. 

But I really didn't remember that morning; I closed my eyes, racking my brain for something, anything that had happened after what I could last remember. Which was Duo's potent gaze, followed by Wufei's dark stare, full of nothing but hatred. Then nothing: shadow and sound. No real memories. Just like the rest of my life. 

There was a curt knock on the door; Heero's gaze flickered over as Trowa stepped through, shutting the door behind him. 

"What is it?" Heero asked. 

"Duo's not going to stand for this," Trowa said evenly, gaze falling to me for a moment before traveling back to the Japanese pilot. 

"I don't give a damn about that," Heero said. "She's a traitor and you know it," his voice had turned vicious, and so had his glare as he trained it on me.

"What has she told you?" Trowa asked calmly, continuing the conversation as if I wasn't even in the room. 

"She's lying to me," Heero said. 

"I *don't* remember this morning!" I insisted as forcefully as I could manage. 

"You… don't…" Trowa said; again, not a question although not quite a statement either. An observation, maybe. 

"No!" 

"You attacked Wufei." 

*What?!*

I blinked. Why would I have done such a thing? Better, even – how could I have even managed to do something resembling "attack" Wufei? He knew martial arts, he was trained in combat, and he was also much stronger than I was. It would not only be stupid and pointless for me to go up against him, but – 

My injuries spoke for themselves, then. 

But… it didn't make sense! My mind flew in circles, trying to pull something coherent out of the phrase that Trowa had just uttered, because it was complete nonsense to me. It didn't make sense. It wasn't right. It couldn't have happened. 

Then… why did I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach? Why was I tied to this bed in the first place? Why was I injured, then?

"But…" 

"Don't deny it!" Heero spat. "If you deny it one more time, I'm going to kill you." 

Okay, I took a breath, I wouldn't deny it then. I'd just question it. 

"This morning?"   
"Yes," Heero replied; Trowa merely stood in the shadow of the door, silent. All I could see was one green eye from beneath his bangs, staring at me. Not coldly, like Heero's blue eyes were, but… interested. Cautious. 

"And he did this to me, then."   
"Yes. You don't need me to spell this out for you, traitor." 

"All right. Then why haven't you killed me yet?" 

"So you admit it – you are a traitor." 

"You certainly think so." 

His gaze hardened; this was ticking him off. Good. 

"Heero." 

The blue gaze flickered up at Trowa, who'd spoken. "What?" His voice was tight.

"That's enough for now. Quatre and I will watch her." 

The blue gaze on Trowa narrowed slightly. But, nevertheless, the "Perfect Soldier" rose and strode out the door, just the slightest bit of anger evident in those strides. 

I found myself beneath Trowa's gaze now. 

"Don't do this," he said, then turned and left. The door clicked shut behind him, and I blinked in the darkness.

Do what?


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam. I'm too broke paying for school to pay for the boys. sigh

AN: Sorry this is coming out so slow! The plot's worked out but the actual writing is just taking a while… 

Walking the Dividing Line

Part 2

I didn't even know what time it was. I wasn't sure how long I had been in here, tied to this bed, but my best guess was that it had been at least a day. There were no windows in this room, save the plastic-covered portal in the door. It was dim in here – the only light came from that window, spilling across the floor and not quite reaching my bed. It was like a permanent state of twilight, without the setting sun. 

Heero hadn't come back – no one had come in since Trowa and Heero had left. I'd heard voices outside the door intermittently; usually Trowa and Quatre, but once it had been Duo. His voice had been soft, though, unlike I had ever heard it before. I wasn't sure what to make of it, so I tried to ignore the cold feeling in my stomach that appeared whenever I thought of Duo. It was just easier not to think about it. 

"Alison? Are you awake?" 

I opened my eyes as Quatre's soft voice broke the silence in the room. I hadn't even heard him come in. Damn. I must be really out of it. 

"Hey. I brought you something to eat," he said quietly, stealing a glance at the door. "Please don't tell them. I'm not supposed to do this. But," he said, looking at me with those clear green eyes, the irises reflecting and magnifying the dim light, "I trust you." 

He reached over and untied my left hand. 

Finally. 

I snapped my arm up as he loosened the restraint, striking him in the chin and knocking him backwards. Before he'd picked himself up off the floor I'd already untied my other hand and was working on my feet. I pulled back on the bed as he approached the bed, a terrified look in his eyes. 

"… *Alison*?" he whispered fiercely, shock evident in his tone. 

I stole a glance at the ventilation duct in the ceiling that I'd been staring at for the past couple of hours. I knew I could open it from in here, but I had to deal with Quatre first. I couldn't have him warning the other pilots right away – I needed time to get out of here. 

I flipped off the bed, over his head and landed on my feet behind him. He spun to face, me, his terror etched on his delicate features. He opened his mouth to say something, but before his voice could escape I'd slammed an elbow down on his collarbone. He crumbled to the floor without a sound, unconscious. 

I smiled satisfactorily. But – 

I blinked. His eyes. His eyes had been so… 

I shook my head and flipped onto the bed, standing on the mattress and quickly prying the cover open. I pulled myself up into the duct and yanked the cover up behind me, setting it back in place. 

I had to get through the system to the outside. I hadn't studied this duct system at all, but I knew the basic layout of the base and followed my instincts, crawling through the metal ducts as silently as possible, all the time keeping my vision focused before me, my thoughts focused on nothing but getting out of here. 

If I stayed, my enemies were going to kill me. It was as simple as that. 

I reached the end of the duct and peered through the metal grating. Between the slats I saw black velvet dotted by points of light. The night sky. I'd made it out. 

I quickly slid the cover off and slipped out, replacing it behind me without a sound. I stood upright, my feet sinking a bit into the desert sand, and looked up at the sky. 

"I'm out," I whispered into the chill night air. I was free – free of my enemies, free of this prison, I had to get back to – 

But… these weren't my enemies. These were my *friends* - 

I shook my head to clear it, took a deep breath of fresh air. And I began running. I realized that I should have thought to search Quatre for a gun, but a moment later I realized that he, of all the pilots, was the most likely to not carry a gun all the time. The action would most likely not have borne fruit, so I brushed the thought aside as I continued on. There was a town nearby, a settlement full of Winner Family supporters. They knew the pilots, but they didn't know me. I could probably stay the night there before moving on; I didn't dare risk spending more than a day near here, lest the pilots find me out. No, it would be too easy for them to find me here, given any reasonable amount of time. 

So I just wouldn't give them that. My side ached and my head was pounding, but I kept going, aware that I had to put as much distance between me and that base as quickly as possible. 

I entered the small town and slowed to a walk, sticking to side streets and keeping an eye out for anyone who might want to apprehend me, take me back to the base. I came across no one, however, and finally found a hotel that I could stay in for the night. The pilots had apparently not taken my wallet when they'd bound me – lucky for me. I went up to my room and unlocked the door, scanning the dark room from the doorway, checking for anything out of the ordinary. 

It seemed as if my senses were heightened – I scanned the darkness, all the shadows seemingly clear even in the pale light that flooded in from the hall. The room was silent, and nothing moved. Good. Satisfied, I stepped through the doorway and flipped on the lights, closing the door quickly behind me. I crossed the floor and pulled the shade down on the window, effectively sealing myself away from the rest of the world. 

I went into the small bathroom adjoining the main room, flipping on the lights. I looked up at the mirror, and was momentarily stopped by what I saw. Slightly matted curly hair fell haphazardly around my face, marred on the left side by a bruise extending from my upper cheek over my eye. My neck was bruised a bit as well, and from the way my shoulder was aching I was sure it wasn't unmarked either. I'd better determine the extent of my injuries, I reasoned, and pulled up my shirt just enough to find that the entire right side of my torso all along my ribcage was also marked by sickening-looking reddish blotches. 

So there was probably some internal bleeding. Not too bad, my mind ticked off, considering I could still move. I would just have to avoid physical violence for the next week or so. If that was possible. Although my best chance of that, I reasoned, was to get out of here and avoid all contact with the pilots. 

I could do that. I turned on the water, washing my hands and face. I glanced back up at the mirror, caught a flash of my green eyes – 

Green eyes. Quatre's eyes, staring at me in the darkness, so wrought with pain and betrayal and confusion that I couldn't stand it – 

Trowa's eyes, carefully calculating and calm, telling me to watch my step as he looked at me silently from beneath his bangs. 

Dark brown eyes. Wufei's eyes, staring me down with nothing but hatred, gaze flaring at me as he whirled around for another kick – 

Blue eyes. Heero's blue eyes, cold as ice – colder than that – staring at me, catching the light and killing me with their intensity alone.

Duo's eyes – 

I grabbed the edge of the sink for support. What was going on? What was I doing – what was I doing *here*?

The pilots. The pilots were my enemies, I had to get away, they had done this to me, it was my objective to – 

To what? What objective? The pilots were my *friends*, they were my allies, I had been tricked by OZ – 

OZ. 

But OZ had held me captive, nearly killed Duo and tortured him God knew how while I had been sent back, desperate to find him while Heero – 

Heero had tried to kill me. Those who tried to kill me were my enemies. I could've sworn I'd even heard him say something to that effect himself, on numerous occasions. 

The pilots had tried to kill me. The pilots were my enemies.

I tore my gaze away from the mirror and opened the drawer beneath the sink. There was a pack of complementary razor blades there – I pulled one out and left the bathroom, yanking out my wallet as I did so. I ripped out any ID cards I found, throwing the wallet down and sitting on the bed, unwrapping the razor blade. 

I wasn't her anymore. I scraped the blade over the ID pictures, scratched out the name that appeared beneath them. There was no Alison. She didn't exist anymore, because I didn't know who I was. 

I wasn't her, and I wasn't anybody. I wasn't anybody anymore. I was an instrument. That was all. 

I tossed the ruined cards down, hearing them flutter to the ground and strike the carpet one at a time. I considered the razor blade a moment, its smooth surface glinting brightly even in the dirty lamplight, its edge good as new even after scratching her face out of existence. 

I pulled my knees up to my chest, and fixed my gaze on the locked door. 

I missed Duo.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Although there is an imaginary Wufei that lives with me and doesn't seem to want to come down off my loft at the moment, I do not own Gundam Wing

Disclaimer: Although there is an imaginary Wufei that lives with me and doesn't seem to want to come down off my loft at the moment, I do not own Gundam Wing. 

AN: Ahhh!!! Okay, I'm SO sorry that I haven't gotten more out. I blame it all on Quantum, and the immense stress resulting from trying to actually pass it. So. Um. Now that that ordeal is over, here's more, and more should - *should* - be out on a regular basis. I hope.. 

Walking the Dividing Line

Part 3

Cold. The first thing I felt was cold cement beneath my bruised cheek, the harsh texture of the ground biting into my skin and augmenting the already painful contusion there. Then I felt the rope binding my wrists and ankles. 

I struggled to open too-heavy eyelids – had I been drugged? – and was met with the sight of an unfamiliar room, the floor and walls lined with concrete and the air was stale and old. I was lying on the ground, tied but not gagged, and I was alone. 

It must have been drugs. My limbs felt vaguely distant and numb, and my mind was cloudy. I couldn't remember how I'd gotten here or who had done this to me. I felt my pulse speed up – had I been recaptured by the pilots? How had they found me? And what was more, why hadn't they killed me, if they knew what was good for them –?

My cloudy thoughts were cut off as a door to my right opened, spreading a path of light from the doorway to my eyes. As I squinted in the light, I could just make out the form of a girl. A girl in an OZ uniform. I blinked – OZ? How had *they* found me…? She stepped up to me and I stared at her polished black boots a moment before casting my gaze up towards her face. 

She wasn't that much older than I was, if at all. Her short brown hair fell dutifully about her chin, framing her pale face and sharp eyes. Her crisp brown-eyed gaze studied me with a calculating look in the dim light from the doorway, as if I had to pass an inspection before she would speak to me. 

Apparently, I passed. "You are Alison," she said shortly, her curt voice hitting the walls of the room and stopping dead. I blinked again – no, actually, I wasn't. I wanted to tell her that I wasn't Alison because there *was* no Alison. Alison was just a mask, a costume that I had been made to wear. Alison didn't exist. I was someone else. 

Instead, I said, "Yes." 

She nodded once, then smiled. It was a thin, icy smile, that reminded me all too much of that woman from before on that OZ base. The one that Duo had killed. The one who had messed with me in the first place. The one that had ruined my life. I shivered involuntarily, and something like hatred began to churn in the pit of my stomach. 

"Good. You will, I think, be of some use to me." 

"How's that?" I spat at her, not caring about my tone, about my demeanor, about whether or not she was going to kill me. I was already dead. Alison was already gone.

"Listen," she said sharply, "I wouldn't speak like that to a fellow OZ officer, *girl*." And she kicked me in the stomach – right in the bruised ribs, and I gasped at the pain her shiny back boot caused as it connected with my battered body. I'd nearly managed to block that pain out of my mind before. Now it was back with a new vengeance, and I briefly remembered Wufei, and the tone of his voice. And how it almost exactly matched hers. 

"It looks like you don't have too many friends these days," she said icily. "You'd do better to show me some respect. After all," she said, her tone lightening, "I might consider telling Commander Khushrenada about your immense contribution to this mission, should you begin to act like the OZ soldier you are." 

Contribution? "What contribution?" 

She smiled again. "Oh, what a contribution it was. You'll be highly decorated for this, you know. *If* you remember just where your loyalties lie, little soldier."

Soldier. OZ soldier. 

Loyalties. 

"What contribution?!" 

"Right now, our Lieutenant Zechs is on his way to pay your little… research subjects a visit. Quite a good job you did of showing us exactly where they are." 

The pilots. Zechs – that name sounded so familiar – was going after the pilots. 

She didn't give me time to think about that, however. 

"So, while we're waiting," she sad, suddenly lowering herself to the floor and sitting cross-legged before me, hands on knees, "tell me about him." Her eyes held this spark – an almost possessive flash as she looked at me and smiled that icy smile. 

"About… who?" I asked, unsure of what she wanted, what she was doing to me. My head was hazy with misplaced loyalties and faceless memories; my mind felt like it was being torn in two directions at once. It was the drugs, I tried to convince myself. 

But it wasn't. Because I had no loyalties anymore, and I knew that all too well. I had no loyalties, and I had no allies, it seemed. Just enemies. 

The pilots. 

OZ. 

The colonies. 

The Earth-Sphere Alliance. 

Treize. 

Duo – 

"Duo Maxwell," she said slowly, as if relishing the way his name felt in her mouth. "Tell me all about him – your little loverboy. I want to know *everything*." 

I blinked. Duo?   
Duo. The cold hole in my gut reminded me that he was no longer my ally – no longer my friend. He was my enemy.

Duo Maxwell was my enemy.

"Oh, come on," she prompted, unhappy with my silence in the wake of her inquiry. "You know, your little boy-toy with the butt-length braid? The *Shinigami*. Tell me." 

Shinigami – how had she known he…? 

Shinigami. He had come for me and he had killed Alison and I was no longer her, no longer his girl and when the hell was I going to accept that? I'd seen the empty look in his eyes. 

Good. Very good. That was a start. 

"So, you wanna hear about the Shinigami, ne? Well, I'll tell you about the Shinigami..." 

She leaned forward, hands on ankles, dark eyes sparkling with anticipation. It was… frightening, almost, the look she had gotten on her face, the air of expectancy and impatience that she suddenly exuded. 

And something in me snapped, then, and somehow the drug-induced haze fell away, and the shadows in the room became razor-sharp and what was I doing?   
But what did it matter? 

"The Shinigami," I said, as slowly and deliberately as she had spoken his name moments before, "came for me. He killed me. And that's all I'm going to tell you." 

Her eyes grew almost wide, and I saw her right hand rise to strike me. 

"Giniko." 

A blunt voice from the doorway stopped her hand inches from my face. She turned, hand still held out, to face the door, where a lean male figure blocked the column of light it threw into the room. 

"Sir." 

"That will not be necessary right now. I have something to discuss with you. You may continue your interrogation later." 

"Sir," she repeated, but her voice was tight and I could tell that she didn't want to be interrupted right now. She was tense and angry, and it showed in her demeanor as she stood and strode over to the door, not even so much as casting one last glance in my direction before she slammed the door. The darkness slammed down behind it, and I was left in silence, alone. Again.


	4. Chapter 4

dl4

Disclaimer: Not mine, I want them but the boys still aren't mine… not even the mecha, how depressing… ;) Gundam belongs to Mixx, or somebody lucky like that. 

AN: Okay, after much plotting with my best friend, this is finally under way again! Yay! So more and more should be coming out… and this story is definitely taking an interesting turn, and I want to thank Jeni-chan (and her Duo) for being so much help! ;)

Walking the Dividing Line

Part 4

I didn't know how much time had passed. Soon after the girl – Giniko, I assumed – had left, two soldiers had come and chained me to the wall. And so now I sat, hands suspended over my head by shackles pinned to the wall, and stared at the door. Or at least in the direction of the door. 

It was dark in here, and the darkness only served to stir up images – images that I didn't want to see. 

I could see Duo, sitting alone, normally mischievous blue eyes cast downwards as I shied away from his playfulness yet again.

I could see Heero, staring at me from across the hangar, cold blue eyes threatening to freeze me over by will alone. I could feel his hatred just as I could feel the cold metal of Duo's new Gundam-in-progress beneath my hands. 

I could see Quatre's concerned looks, Trowa's distant glances. 

And I could see Wufei's angry eyes, deep onyx staring down at me as his fists pounded me again and again, hatred shoving itself deeper and deeper into my mind with each blow. 

My chest ached from my broken ribs, and my arms were sore from being suspended above my head for so long. I wanted to sleep but didn't dare to. So I sat there, and waited, and watched the pilots' faces contort from temperance to hatred over and over in my mind. 

The door opened. 

I looked up and watched silently as she stepped through, walking towards me, boots clicking purposefully on the metal grating. She stopped before me and crouched down to look at me, her outline sharpened. I studied her backlit face as she stared back at me, silent, features set. 

"You're going to help me," she told me curtly, her voice sharp and low. 

"Why should I?" I wanted to know. What did she have to offer me? What did *OZ* have to offer me? 

Certainly not what the pilots had to offer me – 

Not what Duo had to offer me. 

I blinked, but when I opened my eyes she was still staring back at me, her carefully calculating brown eyes still boring into my own. 

The world had nothing to offer me. I was a nobody, I was alone and I didn't need anything, not from her and not from Duo. 

I didn't need anything. 

"You're going to help me," she repeated, and there was no room in her voice for resistance. 

Not that I cared. She couldn't threaten me with anything that would make me cooperate. She couldn't take anything away that I hadn't already lost. I had no friends, no loyalties. I had no identity. 

She could take my life, but I was already dead. 

"No," I informed her slowly, "I am not." 

She slapped me, throwing my head to the side with the force of her blow. She leaned in, until her face was inches from mine, and stared at me with those brown eyes that were so icy I momentarily wondered why they weren't blue. 

"You *will* help me, little soldier, and don't think you even have a say in the matter." 

She stood in one swift motion, and pulled out a syringe. I was too stiff to struggle much – the needle slid into my arm painfully and quickly, and almost as quickly the world began to bleed into greys and blacks and… 

She had uncoupled my chains from the wall. She was leading me, slowly, down a maze of hazy yellow-grey halls. She was shoving me into a room, chaining me to a chair, sitting at a desk – 

Everything was moving in slow motion. My mind was moving in slow motion, and my world was thick and weighted down with the drugs. Even my hatred had been dulled to the point of indeterminate dislike. 

I blinked heavy eyelids, watching half-coherently at best as she reached over and pulled a laptop towards her. She flipped it open, and the screen glowed blue, outlining her features sharply again until – 

The screen turned black and peach and blue and brown. 

"What the – who are you? What the hell are you doing – this is a secure - !" 

That voice – the air was thick and everything sounded like my ears were full of cotton but I knew that voice. 

"Shut up," she said sharply, and the protests stopped. 

"What do you want?" 

"Oh, now there's a question," she said amusedly, her sharp demeanor disappearing, leaning back in her chair and I could just see her smile, icy and confident. "But if I were to tell you that, it would spoil the surprise." 

"What the hell do you mean! *Tell* me what you –" 

"Oh, come now, *Duo*," she purred, and once more the voice was silenced. She reminded me of a cat – a panther, perhaps – stalking its prey, hypnotizing it with cool yellow eyes just before it struck. 

Yellow…. my world bled into yellow for a moment, a new wave of confusion washing over me, and I was momentarily lost in a hazy world of half-remembered screams – 

I was trying to pick up my head, trying to clear my thoughts that weren't really mine but somebody else's, but it didn't seem to be working and my hands were shackled behind me and they were so heavy… 

"This is all about you," she continued, suddenly leaning forward, propping her chin delicately on interlaced fingers, elbows resting on the polished desk. The light was bouncing off the shiny surface and it was blinding me. "And what you want. Or rather," she paused, sitting up straight once more, "what you *think* you want." 

"What the hell – "   
"Shhh," she shushed him, voice low and one finger to her lips; he stopped. "I… have something," she said slowly. Her voice was still low, and there was a seductive undertone that had begun to peek through. It reminded me of how she had sounded before, when she wanted me to tell her about Duo. Somehow, it made me sick. 

"I have her," Giniko purred. "You *do* want her, don't you?" 

"You… you have…" 

"See for yourself." And she stood, coming over to the chair, grabbing my shoulder and yanking my too-heavy, too-numb body up and dragging me over to the desk. 

"Alison!" 

I blinked tiredly at the image of Duo on the screen. The image of the person who was no longer my friend, because he couldn't possibly be friends with the person Giniko – Heero – Wufei – told me I was. He couldn't be friends with an OZ soldier. 

He couldn't love a traitor. 

I was his *enemy*. 

Hah, some sick voice in the back of my head laughed. I was his enemy, and what was more, I was his bait. 

I was nothing more than bait. 

"Yes," Giniko said, her grip tightening and her arm tensing and suddenly she threw me down; I thudded sideways into the wall and slid down to the floor, my legs unwilling to hold me up. "Alison."

"You… you…. What do I have to do?" His voice sounded tired and I wondered why he was even bothering. Why this bait ploy was working – he couldn't possibly have a reason to – 

"Oh, it's very simple," she said, seating herself in the chair once more. "Let me tell you where I want you to meet me." 

***

I had been chained up in that same room again. My body was numb; not more than two hours had gone by without some OZ lackey coming in and injecting me with more drugs. I was beginning to severely dislike living in the dark haze I had been left in; my arms and legs numb and my head thick. Severe dislike, however, was the most I could muster, because most of it was masked by apathy – it pushed and weighed down on my mind until nothing mattered, until everything was dark and there was nothing but heavy blackness, both inside my head and outside of it.

I couldn't really think straight, but when I could think the thoughts would come hard and fast and fleeting and transparent. 

Duo stood before me, a scythe in his hand, looking at me with dark, empty eyes. He hadn't blinked for hours. 

Wufei paced back and forth, sword in hand, waiting for me to blink so he could strike. 

The barrel of Heero's gun was cold against my skin, metal between my eyes and he only had to twitch and I was dead. 

I was already dead. 

Quatre's face, empty and lost, his jaw swollen and eyes angry. He had a gun. I had never before seen him carry a gun. 

Trowa held a handful of throwing knives, walking in lazy circles and tossing one my way every so often. He wasn't going to miss forever. 

I could hear voices. I was sure they were in my head. They told me that I was no one, that I was dead, that Duo wouldn't come because he didn't care, I didn't care, I didn't think or feel or breathe because this was all a dream.

"You're not a real person. You never were." 

"You are dead." 

"I will kill you." 

"You've betrayed us." 

"No one can ever trust you again." 

"Get up." 

That voice was louder. It was sharper and it cut through the fog like an icicle until I realized that there was someone standing over me. 

I squinted unfocused eyes in the dimness.

It was her. I felt a wave of hatred swell up and momentarily overtake the apathy. I didn't like her. She was conniving and I couldn't tell what she wanted, other than Duo. 

Well, I supposed, it wasn't as if I cared whether she wanted Duo or not. It wasn't like he was mine. It wasn't like I cared about him. It wasn't like he cared about me. We were enemies. 

She grabbed my shoulder and yanked me to my feet, the motion jarring my heavy arms and the shackles ripping at my wrists. There was pain, at that, but it was far away and half-complete. 

I blinked at her. 

"…What?"   
"Be quiet and get moving," she commanded sharply, detaching my handcuffs from the wall and dragging me brusquely along by the wrists, tripping over my heavy, half-existent feet and lost in my cloudy, dizzy head. 

She led me through a maze of hallways, twists and turns only amplified by the drugs in my bloodstream until I nearly felt sick. 

I was sick. I was sick of everything. Sick of being captured, tortured, drugged, confused – 

Sick. Sick sick sick. 

Sick of life. Sick of my life, of this life – 

Why wasn't there an end? 

There was an end – we stopped somewhere, a large room, and she went over to a large structure and grabbed a rope and – 

Gundam. This was a Gundam. 

Who *was* this girl?

My sore body was tossed into the cockpit as she took the pilot's seat, strapping herself in and flipping switches; the suit began to whir to life as the screens popped on one by one. 

That sound… 

This was Deathscythe. I knew it – I didn't know how I knew it, in this drug-induced haze, but I knew that this was Deathscythe. 

Only Deathscythe had been lost in the explosion the last time… 

The last time I had been captured by OZ. 

There really was no end, save the darkness that was beginning to descend on my vision, weighing on my mind as she took the flight stick and the mobile suit lurched to life. I could hear her chuckle softly to herself. 

"And just who is the God of Death now, Duo Maxwell," she murmured satisfactorily to herself, before launching the suit out of the hangar and into the open air beyond. I couldn't really grab onto anything, my hands being both numb and bound, and I slid about on the floor still feeling like I was moving in slow motion, only to hit my head on the side of the pilot's chair, and the darkness descended even further onto my mind. The silence wasn't far behind.


	5. Chapter 5

dl5

Disclaimer: Still don't own Gundam Wing… sigh ;)

Walking the Dividing Line

Part 5

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

Warm. I was so warm. It felt nice. Something pleasantly heavy and warm was draped over my right arm.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

I didn't want to wake up. I was so warm and comfortable. I didn't want to have to get up and face the world because there was just too much involved in that – 

KNOCK, KNOCK

I curled up tighter into the warmth. I didn't want to wake up. 

The warm thing above me shifted. 

My eyes flew open. 

And there was Duo, curled around me, holding me to his chest as he slept. 

If he was still asleep – 

KNOCK, KNOCK

"Alison! Duo!" 

It was Quatre's voice, I noticed. It was a little annoyed, a little worried, a little reluctant as he shouted through the heavy metal door. And if he wasn't careful – 

The blue eyes before mine opened slowly, and their warm gaze found mine and he smiled. 

"Morning," he said softly. 

I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I couldn't even think.

Gundam pilot. 

"Aww, Aly, come on, you're killin' me," he pouted, before leaning in and claiming my mouth in a kiss, shifting a bit and pulling me closer so that I fit against the warm curve of his body better. One leg slid over and intertwined itself with mine. 

I was too shocked to fight him, to do anything but lie there, wrapped in his arms and legs and pulled close to his chest, eyes wide and mind on standstill. 

Quatre was still knocking on the door when Duo pulled away; his long, unbound hair had gotten tangled and a few chestnut segments had somehow draped themselves over my shoulder, as if it were my own hair. 

"Aly?" His voice held a worry that was mirrored by his deep blue eyes as he peered at me, unmoving and unresponsive in his arms because I still couldn't think and I didn't know what was going on yet. My mind was unable to wrap itself around my current situation, and strands of frantic thought were only just now beginning to spin a web of coherence inside my head. 

Gundam pilot.

"Come on, you guys, it's nearly noon!" Quatre called from the other side of the door. "You can't sleep all day, we have to get work done!"   
Duo turned his head upwards, away from mine. "Come *on*, Q-man, can't ya just give us a coupla more hours of privacy here?! We work hard for our free time!" 

The knocking stopped and there was a barely audible chuckle from behind the door. "You know I can't do that, you guys. Come on, please get up, all right? Do you want Heero to come down here and break in the door?" 

"Hee-chan can try all he likes, you know he can't!" Duo called back, pausing briefly. "Fine, we'll be up in a couple of minutes, is that good enough?" 

"Yes," came the reply, "just please actually do it, all right?" 

"I never lie!" Duo assured the voice behind the door; his face then turned and buried itself in my hair. 

"D-Duo?" So I could speak, a little. I needed to speak, needed to form words so I could ask him questions because I didn't know how I got here or what was going on or why I was even still alive – 

He lifted his head and looked at me again. "What is it, Aly?" His voice was so warm, so rich, so close to me and I could feel it reverberate through his bare chest as he spoke. 

Gundam pilot.

"What – what's going on? What happened?" 

"Ne? Nothing," he replied, snuggling closer, brushing off my question in an attempt to nuzzle my neck. 

But something wasn't right here. I blinked – this couldn't possibly be happening. It didn't compute. The last thing I remembered, I had been drugged and tossed into the cockpit of – of Deathscythe. By – 

"Giniko," I burst out, pulling away from the boy beside me and sitting up in the bed, the sheets falling off me and piling around Duo, framing his body just as his hair fell about his face and shoulders, trailing off down his back only to drape itself back over his hips as he lay on his side.

He looked up at me with confused, clouded blue eyes as he himself sat up, shrugging the sheets off his lean frame in the process. 

"What?" he asked, concern coloring his voice. "Aly, babe, are you all right?" 

I blinked at him. 'Babe?' He'd never called me that before – 

He'd never slept – 

Gundam pilot – 

Enemy.

"What's going on?!" I insisted, aware of the frantic sound beneath my own voice, aware of the constricting feeling in my chest and the worry welling up in my stomach. There was this static hiss with this undertone of screaming starting up inside my head, and I couldn't think straight and my thoughts were all tangled up. The whole world had turned upside-down – I knew the pilots hated me, I knew that they were my enemies and that I had run away because if I hadn't I would most likely have been dead within hours. 

That or I would be forced to kill them all. 

Why was that so unappealing to me, all of a sudden, if they were my enemies?

I didn't know.

The only thing I did know was that there was no way in hell I could possibly be sitting in the same bed as the boy who sat before me, looking at me for all the world like he was worried I had just lost my mind. 

Maybe I had – 

"Aly, you're scarin' me," he said slowly. "There's nothing going on, I don't know why you're so worked up." And he slid over to me and wrapped his arms around me – I stiffened and started to pull away, because something was so wrong here – 

"What – hey!" he protested, locking his hands behind my back so I couldn't escape and that only made me try harder. 

"Duo – stop!" I yelled, because the noise in my head was getting too loud for me to think now, all I could hear was the screaming and the static – 

"Aly –" he said, and tried to silence my mouth with his own. 

I couldn't – I pulled back and he stared at me with wide eyes. 

"Aly – " 

"This is wrong!" I yelled at him, still struggling in vain to disentangle myself from his arms, pushing against his chest because he was my enemy and I had to get out of here before he killed – 

"What? What do you mean? There's nothing wrong, I love you and I don't know why you're trying to – "   
"You don't love me!" I screamed at him, straight into those eyes because he was my enemy and I wanted to kill him, never wanted to see that damned face of his again because he had killed me and I was nobody and I was empty inside and I knew it was because of him.

He pushed me down and kissed me, suddenly, hard.

I shoved against his chest, trying to get his weight off me, trying to squirm out of his grasp – 

He lifted away and I tumbled out of the bed, scrambling to my feet, fists in the air, and I knew I had to kill him. I hated him and he was my enemy and I was going to kill him and then maybe I'd kill Quatre, and then I'd have to find some weapons before I took care of the others. 

He was sitting on the bed, still half-tangled in the sheets and bare-chested, hair falling about his shoulders and blue eyes glinting with a hint of hidden anger. 

"You just won't make this easy on yourself, will you little Ali-chan?" he asked, his voice totally changed into a low, provoking tone that hit something in my chest until my stomach dropped away and he sounded like *her*. 

And then everything dropped away and I was left with only silence, my mind and body numb once more. 

***

The numbness was shattered with a sharp pain – my eyes flew open and I saw a fuzzy figure standing before me, arm extended and the stinging sensation in my cheek told me that I'd just been slapped.

It wasn't Giniko. And I wasn't drugged – I knew that before I could feel anything else, before I realized just how close the stinging in my cheek was; I knew that because of the sudden, immense hatred that welled up at the very thought of the girl who'd done this to me. 

My blurry vision slowly focused on the individual before me. They were smiling, a cold, icy, sadistic smile and I suddenly wondered how this *couldn't* be Giniko. But the hair color was all wrong – 

Chestnut brown bangs fell into blue eyes and long hair cascaded down over shoulders that were hunched towards me as he drew his arm back towards himself. It was a boy, I noticed, despite the long hair; he was wearing a plain white t-shirt and black pants, black boots. I squinted, trying to bring the image into even more focus, trying to place his features, because he looked… familiar… 

"Time to get up, little Ali-chan," he said, tone low and seductive and singsong, and I stared at him. 

It was Duo.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Nope, Gundam's not mine

Disclaimer: Nope, Gundam's not mine!

AN: Lookie! I'm on a roll! More!

Walking the Dividing Line

Part 6

I blinked, not believing what I was seeing. 

"Duo –" 

"Ah, there you are," he murmured approvingly. He stood, turning to look over his shoulder, and I saw movement – 

Giniko. 

The hate swelled up again, and had she been close enough I would have spit in her face. I tried to get up, but I was bound into – 

Into the cockpit of Deathscythe? I looked around, confused. Yes, I was tied to the pilot's seat, only it was more cramped in here than usual – a mass of multicolored wires ran all through the cockpit, some disappearing behind the seat and some running out the hatch and onto the scaffolding on which Duo and Giniko stood. 

And some were running – 

Some were running behind my head. There was a dull aching at the base of my head, where my neck met my scalp, and I couldn't lean my head all the way back. I glanced down and saw that there were two IV lines hooked up, one into each wrist, and one higher up my forearm that dripped a yellowish liquid into my veins. I didn't think it was saline. 

I looked back up at the two figures on the scaffolding, beyond the hatch. Duo was leaning against the open hatchway, one shoulder resting on the cold black metal and arms crossed against his chest, hair falling nearly to his knees and he was looking at Giniko. 

Giniko had just sat down on the makeshift walkway, a laptop propped open before and spilling greenish light onto her face, reflecting off her glasses and slick brown hair. She was typing rapidly on the keyboard, intently focused on whatever it was she was doing.

I didn't know what to think – I didn't know what had just happened, if I had been dreaming or hallucinating… or something else entirely. It hadn't *seemed* like a dream – the colors and sounds had been too vivid, the feelings too clear. 

Then again, was anything clear in my head anymore? 

I looked up at Duo, still leaning on the hatch and eyes focused on Giniko, and somehow got the feeling that he was more my enemy now than he ever had been before. 

But it didn't make sense. They themselves were enemies. And while both of them were my enemies, they – 

What was he doing here? Or was I hallucinating again?

The typing stopped and Giniko stood, walking slowly over to the open hatch, brown eyes glittering with malice as she came closer and looked me in the face. As she stopped, Duo stepped out behind her, placing one hand on her shoulder and the other on her waist. He leaned forward, his face beside hers, and grinned at me – not a wide, goofy grin, but a smaller, more reserved and calculating grin. 

What the *hell* was going on?! What was he doing – regardless of anything, Duo was OZ's enemy and why was he standing there leaning on her like…. like a *slut*?!

It didn't matter what he was – he was a Gundam pilot and that was all I needed to know – 

"Well well, you've performed quite admirably," Giniko said, leaning forward even further. "You gave up your information quite easily while you were asleep, such a good little guinea pig." 

I blinked at her. "What the *hell* are you talking about?" I growled, voice low and I didn't care *who* was my enemy but I wanted to kill her right then and there with my bare hands. 

She smiled. "Oh, you've done so much for me, I can't even begin to think of how to thank you properly." 

I didn't want her to "thank" me. I wanted her to untie me so I could kill her. 

"Oh, I know," Duo said from beside her, turning his head so his mouth was near her ear. His voice was low and I'd never heard him speak like that before. Something in the pit of my stomach didn't like it. 

"Hmm," Giniko mused, turning her head – 

And she kissed him. 

*What* the *hell*?! What the hell what the hell what the *hell* - 

"Yes," Giniko purred, turning away and looking back at me, "show her what she's missing."   
"What are you doing? What did you do to him?!" I cried, unwilling to believe what my own eyes had just shown me.

"Oh, how sweet" Giniko murmured, voice sugary and sickening, "I think she still cares about you, Duo," she said, addressing Duo; he let go of her and shrugged, stepping back to cross his arms over his chest once more and study me intently with those blue eyes that I realized now had somehow lost something. 

Somehow, that *wasn't* Duo. 

"We'll have to keep that in mind," she mused; Duo nodded from behind her. 

"Yes." 

"Listen – you are going to *tell* me what you've done to him. What you did with Duo, because that's not him." 

He blinked innocently at me before turning to her. "Gini-chan?" he asked, sounding almost like a small child; I couldn't tell if he was mocking me or not. "What does she mean? Of course I'm me." 

He turned back to me, that smirk plastered back on his face, and I knew he was mocking me and I knew something was so wrong – 

"I have no clue what she's talking about," Giniko's voice flowed from behind him, the absolute sound of innocence and I wanted to strangle her.

"No," I repeated forcefully, so forcefully that Giniko looked up at me. "No, that's not Duo and you listen to me – you are going to tell me what is going on and then you are going to *untie* me and let me out of this Goddamned cockpit and I'll *think* about not killing you," I growled, fists balled up and I didn't know what was going on, either inside my head or before my eyes, but all I knew was that I wanted nothing more than to kill her and… 

And kill him, because that wasn't Duo, and maybe I would have wanted to kill him even if it was because – 

Because the pilots were my enemies – 

But Giniko was obviously my enemy – 

I had nothing but enemies, nothing to lose anymore because I had no friends and no allies and no reason to live save paying Giniko back for whatever the hell it was she was doing to me because that was all I could feel at the moment – a hatred so intense that I felt it alone might be enough to snap my bonds. 

Unfortunately, I remained tied to the seat and Giniko merely laughed and went over to the laptop, casting another glance my way. 

"We'll see how you feel about all this nonsense in a moment, shall we?" she asked, bending down to type in a command. 

And my world went white-hot and it felt like she was burning my thoughts themselves – streams of consciousness catching on fire and blazing out of existence until all there was left was ashes and the afterimage of white-hot lightning in my head – 

I gasped, blinking away the spots that had suddenly appeared before my eyes. It felt like the world was cold and empty around me for a moment, before I realized that it wasn't the world but *me* that was cold and empty. 

Worse than before – 

Worse because – 

Duo. I looked up at Duo, and something twisted in my stomach and – 

I missed Duo. 

"There," she said, coming back over and nodding to Duo, who leaned into the cockpit and flipped open the cuffs, one hand on each wrist and before I could even try to move he yanked me out of the chair – 

Something ripped out of the back of my neck and then there was something wet back there and ohmiGod it hurt – 

The IVs ripped out of my arms, skin stinging but it was nothing like the feeling in the back of my neck – not to mention the empty coldness like ice inside my head; Duo took advantage of my shock to flip me around and his arms held me fast – I couldn't squirm free. He yanked me to his chest so that I could feel his warm skin through his shirt, feel his chin pressing against the top of my head. 

"Let me *go*!" I concentrated on the problem at hand, ignoring his skin against mine, ignoring the feelings that were somehow resurfacing with that contact that I couldn't even comprehend because he was my enemy and he wouldn't be doing this to me if he – 

If he cared. Because I cared. 

I struggled in his arms, ignoring the sinking feeling in my stomach that was only intensified by the feeling that my entire world had just dropped away, despite the fact that I couldn't figure out *how*. 

"Ahhh, I'm so sorry but I just can't do that," Giniko said. "Just be glad I clean up after my messes. And yours. I'm sure you've noticed." 

Clean… up? What was I supposed to notice – that I felt empty and dizzy and I didn't know why but I wanted to *kill* her?

She must have seen the confused look on my face, because she laughed again and went over to the wall, hitting a panel and suddenly the scaffolding began to slide down towards the floor. Duo still held me tightly and I couldn't move, let alone really think because my mind was somehow still on fire, ice-cold but white-hot – 

"Hurt much?" she asked sweetly as the platform reached the ground and stopped moving; she walked off followed by Duo, dragging me along as he went, my feet barely even touching the ground. 

"What did you do?!" I demanded as she turned a corner and started down a metal hallway. 

She chuckled and kept walking. "Well, you know, there was an awful lot of nonsense floating around in that little head of yours. I don't know how it all fit, to be perfectly honest." 

She stopped at a door on the left and pulled out a keycard, sliding it through the lock and typing on the keypad. "All those emotions, those thoughts, half-processed memories, not to mention your assigned mission observations and information," she continued as she typed. 

"So I just cleaned up for you," she finished smugly, and the door slid open. 

My stomach dropped. Somehow I really didn't have a good feeling about this… 

She nodded her head towards a wall in the dark room before stopping to flip on a light as Duo half-dragged, half-carried me over in the direction she'd indicated. 

The lights blinked on and I saw that we were in an empty metal room with bare walls. As Duo dragged me closer, however, I realized that the wall wasn't so bare – it had been fitted with what looked like electronic locks – 

Duo stopped and flipped me around; the room spun before my eyes and I was almost dizzy until my back slammed into the wall, sharp pain from the impact reverberating throughout my body. I blinked at him; I noticed a streak of blood marring his white t-shirt where my head had been held against him. I shook my head slightly – painfully – trying to get my bearings but he reached out with one hand and hit a keypad – 

And I was bound to the wall. What *was* this place? I had been shackled by my wrists and ankles, stuck in a standing position, arms and legs spread and I saw behind Duo that Giniko was pulling a rolling table out of the shadows in the other corner. 

A hint of silver glinted in the lights as she wheeled the table out and stopped, coming over to wrap her arms around Duo's waist. I saw that the tabletop was littered with an assortment of weapons – no, really just knives, of all shapes and sizes, and I didn't have a good feeling about this. In fact, all I could feel was an intense, fervent hatred that made me want to retch, seeing him there, entwined in her arms and the picture of – 

Of what I couldn't have. 

I stared at her, wondering what the hell was going on and what she had done to me and how I was going to get out of this so I could fling her blood all over these shiny metal walls because this room was so bare and empty somehow like my mind – 

"Oh, don't look at me like that," she pouted, resting a cheek on Duo's shoulder as he smirked in my direction, blue irises catching the reflections off the walls and glinting like ice. "Especially not after all the trouble I went through, getting all that top secret information out of your head and then cleaning it out for you. Just think," she said, pulling away from Duo and taking a step back, looking me up and down, "Just think about how nice it will be to die with everything in order. No confusion, no ties or attachments. No messy loyalties to this side or that, only your love and the knowledge that he will be the last thing you will ever see."   
She paused. 

"Hm. How perfectly and stupidly romantic," she laughed. "So," she said, turning and walking towards the door, "now that I've had my fun, I leave you in your precious Duo-chan's hands."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Gundam Wing

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Gundam Wing. And with the way Duo's acting, I don't know that I want to….

Walking the Dividing Line

Part 7

The door slid shut, and I was left staring at the empty shell that had once been Duo Maxwell. That had once – 

That had once laughed with me, that had once held me and told me to get better soon because he needed me to, that had once cared about me.

I knew he hadn't cared about me by the time I'd left, and he most certainly didn't care about me now. 

I couldn't stand that he meant so much, or that it hurt so much and that my stomach was cold and empty when I looked at those barren blue eyes. I had nothing else left besides him, and no defense against the fact that he didn't care any more. 

I had only one thing left. One thing that I knew for sure. 

"You're not Duo," I spat at him, looking down at the lean form that was clothed in garments I'd never seen Duo wear, the long brown chestnut hair cascading down his back as Duo had never really let even me see it, the blue eyes sparkling with something that I'd never seen in Duo's eyes. 

"You're not Duo," I repeated. "He's dead." 

Silence. Then, "You know," he said, reaching over and picking up one of the knives laid out on the table, its silver blade glinting in the harsh light as he held it up to inspect its edge, "I'm getting sick of hearing that." 

And he strode over to me, so that his nose was practically millimeters from mine – I could feel his breath across my lips, see the blue-black of his eyes – eyes that weren't Duo's – and feel the heat from his chest – and stopped, hovering there for a long moment. 

"Shut up," he said icily, tone cold and hard and biting. 

And he lifted the blade, and slid it lightly across my mouth. 

It *hurt*. 

I could feel my eyes widen in shock as it pulled away; my mouth was already filling with blood, and I spat it out onto the ground even as he stepped away, fingering the blade as if to test the effect the crimson fluid had on it. He ran his index finger along the edge, lifting it to examine its tip in the light. 

He smiled and chucked just a bit, softly to himself, as he went over to the table and set the blade down where he'd gotten it. He then lifted his bloodstained finger to his mouth, turning around and looking at me, eyes glinting as he licked the liquid off slowly, deliberately. Seductively. 

It just made me hate her even more, somehow. What had she *done* to him? All I knew was that this wasn't Duo. It couldn't be, it just wasn't possible. Duo was dead. Gone. And I didn't know who this person was, and even though he looked like Duo… he wasn't. He just wasn't Duo. 

But… why did he still matter so much to me? 

I knew why, but I couldn't admit that to myself because then I would have lost everything. And I wasn't going to let her – or him, whoever this empty person was – win. 

"So, are you going to behave now?" he asked, eyeing me with those icy eyes, colder than even Heero's.

I just glared at him, silently daring him to carry out any of the million unspoken threats I could hear in his voice. I didn't care – I had nothing left to live for. I had betrayed too many people too many times. I had no worth, no identity. No loyalties. 

No friends. 

And now Duo was dead, his mind gone, re-spun into this horrifying sick and twisted version of himself that stood before me. The Shinigami had been killed, just as he had killed me before. Just as he was killing me now.

He sighed, a loud, fake sigh that was overly dramatic. "I can see," he said slowly, turning his back to me to examine the table before him, littered with so many blades that I couldn't count them from here, "that you don't mean to behave." 

He turned, holding up a foot-long, curved silver blade. He held the leather-wrapped handle delicately as he approached, again coming to within inches of my face. 

"I will make you behave," he informed me, lifting the blade so that its edge just touched my left cheek. Even though he wasn't applying pressure, I could feel its razor-sharp edge, and a small trickle of blood suddenly ran down my face and fell into my mouth, leaving an iron-sharp taste on my tongue. 

He smiled, that same icy smile that seemed to pervade my tattered memory, whether it was on the face of the woman who'd first kidnapped me, or Giniko, or now Duo. No. This wasn't Duo. This wasn't Duo this wasn't Duo this wasn't – 

He kissed me – I could feel my eyes widen as he forced his mouth down upon mine, replacing passion with pressure, and suddenly I was aware that the deeper he took the kiss, the deeper he was pressing the blade into my skin. The pain suddenly registered as the skin broke and my mouth abruptly filled with blood – the taste only made him push the knife in deeper, push his lips against mine harder. 

The initial wave of shock passed and I was immediately struggling against him, angry and horrified at what he was doing. How *dare* he -!

He pulled away abruptly, leaving me sputtering, spitting out more blood, my cheek burning as he slid the knife down to my chin and pulled it away after him in one long, smooth stroke. I stared at him, at those smug blue eyes and blood-smeared mouth. 

"You're – " I began, but there was a motion and a flash of silver and before I knew what had happened he'd deftly sliced that same cheek in the opposite direction, crossing his initial cut and causing such burning, piercing pain that I couldn't bring myself to finish my sentence. Words forgotten, I continued to stare at him, face smeared with my blood, knife still held delicately in the fingers of his right hand. 

"Oh, come now," he pouted, face suddenly contorting with fake disappointment, "don't give me that look." 

"Give –" 

Slash – 

"Me –" 

Slash –

"The –"

Slash – 

"Respect –" 

Slash – 

"I –" 

Slash – 

"Deserve!"

With one last swipe down my right forearm, he stepped back to admire his handiwork. I could only try to concentrate on breathing and holding back the hot tears threatening to spill out as he surveyed with pride the slashes down each of my arms, my flesh torn and my blood pooling on the slick metal floor beneath my feet. 

I was feeling lightheaded from pain and blood loss and the room was beginning to get cold. I could hear that my breathing had become ragged, but somehow in the red haze of half-coherence that was beginning to descend upon me I just didn't care. 

I heard his voice, somewhere far away, off in the distance. 

"Fine, go ahead, lose consciousness now. It's the last time I'll afford you that comfort." 

And I was gone.

***

*SLAP*

My eyes flew open, an involuntary cry escaping my mouth as I was slapped across the left cheek. The pain brought tears to my eyes, saline stinging just as sharply as my cheek. 

All I could see was blue on black but it was empty – 

Duo pulled away from me, examining the cross-shaped bloodstain tainting the pale skin of his palm.

And then he lifted his other hand and slashed the newly-closed cuts open again with the knife he was holding.

"Ahh!" 

He stood, ignoring my cry, and went over to the table. I watched his back through my hazy vision; my head was pounding and I didn't know how long I'd been out. The hatred, however, was beginning to well up over the pain, and I began to remember what had happened before. 

_"So," she said, turning and walking towards the door, "now that I've had my fun, I leave you in your precious Duo-chan's hands."_

I hated her. I hated her and I hated him and I wanted out. I wanted out right now. 

He came back over to me, something small and grey in his hand, and hit the keypad that controlled the shackle holding my left wrist in place. It slid open – but before I could even move my hand to strike him he'd grabbed my wrist and turned me, pinning it with his left hand against the wall beside my right hand, so that my back was turned to him. 

My t-shirt was already ripped; he pulled the bottom of it up to my neck, exposing the bare skin of my back to him, and somehow held that in his left hand as well while still holding my hand to the wall.

And something clicked, and I felt heat – 

He had a lighter. What the hell was he – 

"Ahh – Duo, *stop* it!!" I screamed as he slowly trailed the flame across my back. 

And then I stopped screaming because I couldn't think any more, because all I could feel and see was the flame, red-hot and dancing across my skin and all I could feel were the blisters and burns it was leaving in its wake – 

I was vaguely aware of my chin hitting my chest – 

*SLAP*

I felt more blood drip down my chin and saw it spatter onto the stained metal floor, mixing bright red with the rust-colored blotches already there, mixing new blood with old.

"I didn't say," his voice whispered, as he leaned closer and the flame burned me hotter and I could feel my eyes widen and I gasped and I wanted to scream, "that you could lose consciousness this time." 

My back hurt my back hurt my back hurt – 

He was working his way down, leaving no piece of skin untouched – 

I bit my lip so hard it opened the cut he'd already made there as well and I could taste blood again – 

I felt my eyes fall closed – 

*SLAP*

I coughed from all the blood pooling in my mouth and my vision was going white from the pain – 

*SLAP*

He abruptly clicked the lighter off and in one swift motion slammed me back around against the wall, shackling my left wrist back in place. 

I was trying not to scream from the shockwave of pain that was still coursing through me, a result of his slamming my burned back against the hard metal wall. I was biting my lip again, blood pooling in my mouth and I spat it out again, slowly opening my eyes and trying to focus through the bright white spots dancing before me. 

I could barely see his figure approaching me, and suddenly he'd grabbed my hair and had lifted my head so that I was forced to stare him in the face. 

I glared at him as best I could, the room spinning and my head somehow spinning in the opposite direction, I wanted to just lose it and fall away but dammit he wouldn't let me.

"Why… are you…?" I managed to spit out at him, but it hurt to talk and he grinned down at me as if he knew that. 

"Why, Ali-chan?" he asked, bending down, eyes boring into mine, not letting me go until all I could see was the empty blue of his irises and all I could hear was his voice as he told me, "Because I like it." 

I knew he was holding my head up but it didn't matter any more because I was falling…


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Nope, uh-uh, not mine

Disclaimer: Nope, uh-uh, not mine. sigh

AN: Sorry! I was in Minnesota in a cabin with no computer or anything of the sort. But I'm home now and here's more!

Walking The Dividing Line

Part 8

"I'm getting to you," he said, and I could just see his grin, that ghastly, hollow grin that would reach up to his equally hollow eyes. I didn't have the strength to look up at him any more. I hadn't for a while now. 

I didn't know how long I'd been here. I didn't know when the last time I'd eaten or really slept was – I'd lost count of how many times I'd passed out long ago – and I didn't know how much more I could take. I didn't know how much more I *wanted* to take. 

I wanted it to end. I didn't care how – I didn't care if he died or if I died, so long as there was an end. All I knew was that I didn't want to admit it to him; I didn't want to let him win. I couldn't do that. But I couldn't even lift my head to look him in the face any longer, and he knew that. 

He also knew I couldn't keep this up much longer. I could tell that the time in between my blackouts was getting shorter and I could tell that the effects of not having eaten or slept were getting stronger. Every part of me ached and my head hadn't stopped pounding in so long that I could scarcely remember a time when it hadn't been doing so. I had lost more blood than I cared to think about; each time I regained consciousness he would slash at my cuts, re-opening them and it was more painful each time. My face and legs and arms were stained brown with blood and I couldn't remember when its iron-sharp taste hadn't filled my mouth. The floor – that was all I could really see anymore – was mottled silver and brown and red. 

I didn't want to know what I looked like any more. Not that I cared – there was no one to impress. My face and arms and chest and legs were covered with not only cuts but bruises as well; my broken ribs ached ferociously and he'd made use of them more than once. My clothes – or what remained of them – had been cut and stained and torn so that I didn't even know if they really counted as "clothing" any longer. 

I didn't know if anything mattered at all any longer. I knew I didn't matter – there was no one left to care if I lived or died, not even myself because I just wanted an end, and the only end I could think of was death. The only thing keeping me here was my refusal to let him win. I wouldn't give him – or her – the satisfaction. I couldn't do that – the hatred, the only thing left burning in me besides the pain, wouldn't let me give in. I wanted to stare at him through it all and make him see that he hadn't won. 

But… 

But I didn't know if I could do even that, any more. 

"You know it, don't you," he said, breaking me from my half-conscious thoughts and bringing me back to the aching, throbbing, white-spotted world. I stared at my bloodstained sneakers and attempted to concentrate on his words, on his voice, because I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of passing out for as long as I could hold on. It was becoming a contest, the light versus the darkness, the pain versus the numbness, and the darkness tended to win. 

My stomach was eating itself and the room was on spin cycle. His voice came from a million miles away. 

"Do you know how much blood you've lost, little Ali-chan?" he asked, voice still that damned annoying singsong tone but I could tell… 

He was getting bored. 

Please let him be bored, anything, *anything* to make him stop – 

Please let him kill me.

I didn't want to break. But I was going to if he didn't stop, and it was getting harder and harder to pretend I wasn't, and it was also getting harder to keep that fact from him as well. But there was no way I was going to let him know that – I couldn't let him know that – 

He lifted my right wrist, long fingers cradling my pale skin delicately, as if he cared about me at all. I saw his face, eyes focused on the white scar on my wrist – the scar that Heero had given me. 

"Oh, look," he said calmly, glancing up at my face before lifting the knife, "I missed one."

He dropped my hand, now dripping with blood, as my fingers went an odd sort of prickly numb… 

"Do you know," he said, stooping below me and blocking the view of my sneakers so I caught a glimpse of chestnut bangs framing blue eyes and a flash of silver – 

He'd only just re-opened the cuts on my face and arms, but within seconds a fresh wave of pain – and a fresh rain of blood on my sneakers – told me he'd done it again. 

"Do you know," he repeated, this time continuing, "how much blood you're losing?" He sounded smug and self-satisfied and I wanted to kill him – 

*Slash*

Another cut on my leg re-opened.

*Swish*

And one on my stomach.

*Scrape* 

A new one down my thigh – was there really skin he hadn't cut?

*Crash*

A new sound – the hand holding the blade stopped, inches from my nose, as a faraway clatter reached my ringing ears. Then – 

"Duo!" 

A voice – a voice I recognized. A voice I thought I'd never hear again. It was frantic and joyful and horrified all at the same time. 

It was Quatre's voice. 

I didn't even have the strength to look up; but I saw Duo's body disappear from my field of view with a swish of his hair and a movement of his arm; I saw his hand fly by, a gun gripped in his long fingers and I wondered where he'd gotten it from and why the hell he hadn't just shot me and gotten this overwith. He'd had a gun this whole time; I suddenly wondered how he could have been so damn rude as to not just end this for me –

"Duo?!" Quatre's voice called out again, this time questioning and worried and I heard shots ring out, far away, and silently wished one would reach my head. It was okay now – I didn't have to outlast Duo. I didn't have to stare him down, day after day, I didn't have to hurt anymore. I could die now. I could die now I could die now I could – 

More shots, and I heard someone fall, a dull thud resounding through the room. Lots of shouting – 

"Wufei! You didn't have to –" 

"Shut up, Winner. He was obviously not going to come willingly." 

"But you didn't have to…" 

Quatre trailed off and I heard shuffling; I managed to summon the strength to lift my head the merest fraction of an inch. I saw the slender blond kneeling over Duo's body, lying facedown on the floor. There was a small puddle of red slowly spreading from his right arm, beneath the blanket of hair, and it looked like he'd been shot. The drawn gun Wufei held only confirmed my suspicions. 

Please, my mind whispered. Please, shoot me next.

"It's not serious. He'll be fine," Wufei sighed.

My vision was getting hazy just from holding my head up an inch above my chest; I couldn't even feel my hands anymore and suddenly I knew… 

It *was* over. Duo had been right. I had lost too much blood. I couldn't feel my arms or legs now, and I was so cold and my head hurt so much… It was over. It was over – 

Quatre had managed to sling Duo's unconscious body over his shoulder; he looked up and caught my gaze – and his eyes widened in shock and I saw his mouth open to speak. 

At the same time Wufei looked up and suddenly I was staring down the muzzle of his gun from across the room. 

Thank God.

"Wufei - *stop*!" Quatre cried frantically, and in that second any strength I had gave out and I dimly felt my chin hit my chest, felt the blood dripping down my cheek run onto my shirt, soaking it yet again… 

I waited for the shot to come, for the cold lead to free me from the hell that Duo had put me through, had enjoyed creating for me every day, but it never came. 

There was only static in my ears, and then voices above my head. 

"She's a *traitor*! I will *not* –" 

"Wufei, stop it! She needs medical –" 

"What the hell are you *on*, Winner – she doesn't deserve to live. Obviously even Maxwell knew that." 

"There's something wrong with Duo," Quatre said, voice frantic and pleading and I wondered why I was still hearing these things, why the world hadn't left me yet, because I could feel it bleeding away just like the fluid dripping down my body and pooling on the floor… 

"I will not allow you to – "   
"You will *not* leave her." Quatre's voice had suddenly changed – no longer frantic or pleading, it was firm and left no room for argument. 

There was a brief moment of silence, and I could feel my reality slipping even further away, welcoming the darkness it brought with it because I wanted so badly for it to carry me out of this hell – 

"Wufei," Quatre said, voice still commanding and resolute, "You will *not* leave her. If you leave her that makes *you* no better than a traitor." He paused. "And I don't remember there being any honor in that." 

Silence.

Then the gunshot came – 

And I fell to the floor as my shackles disappeared, pain stabbing every part of my body and despite my belief that I had nothing left, I heard a cry escape my lips. I felt my head crack on the floor and I felt the cold metal and the cool wetness of my newly-fallen blood soaking into my skin and hair and clothes – 

And I felt arms around me, slipping beneath my shoulders and legs and I felt a soft shirt covering a firm chest and I heard a heartbeat beside my ear, cutting through the static in my head, and I felt someone carrying me. 

I somehow found the energy to crack open my eyes, and I saw that the shirt covering the chest was blue; and that the arms belonged to Wufei –

The arms belonged to Wufei as he carried me out of hell. 

I became aware that I had a handful of his shirt in my hand, clutching the blue fabric as if it were a lifeline. I briefly wondered where I'd found the strength to do that.

I let go.

And I plunged into the darkness.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Still not mine, la di dah… 

Disclaimer: Still not mine, la di dah… 

AN: Sorry!!! I was at home and on vacation and then I got back and I was at work… Yeah. ::Bows:: But here's more, for those who want it. ;)

Walking The Dividing Line

Part 9

The first thing I heard was the steady …BEEP...BEEP...BEEP… that seemed to coincide with the throbbing pain that was the first thing I felt. The second thing I felt was the tube down my throat. 

The first thing I thought was, *He didn't slap me this time.* 

The second was, *I'm not dead.* 

With the amount of effort I would have thought necessary for me to physically lift a Gundam itself above my head, I managed to open my eyes. At first everything was a fuzzy shade of grey; a wave of confusion washed over me and I wondered why I was lying down – why I wasn't suspended from the wall, shackled and staring at my feet as I had been for what had to be days now. I wondered where Duo was. I wondered where the knives were. 

I wondered how much blood I must have lost to be seeing Quatre's concerned face above me, green eyes wrought with worry as he peered down into my face. 

"...Alison? Alison, can you hear me?" he asked softly, the concern in his face evident in his voice as well. 

I tried to make a sound, realized it was impossible around the tube in my throat. I managed to blink in response 

The concern disappeared immediately as Quatre's pale face lit up at my movement. "Alison! I can't believe it - you're awake!" 

I couldn't be awake. There was no way. I had to be dead. Or dreaming. He was lying - he wasn't even here - 

He stood quickly and turned towards the door. "I'll be right back," he told me, before running out the door. I could hear his voice echoing down the hall as he left, "Sally! Sally, she's awake!" 

I laid there and wondered what had happened. I had thought there was no way 

out - no, I had thought I'd found a way out, I had thought I was dead. The last thing I could remember - 

Something soft, and blue. Someone's arms. Someone carrying me - 

I blinked. That couldn't have – 

But somehow I was lying here, on what looked like a hospital bed in a very Spartan-looking room. There was a window off to my right, pitch-black sky dotted with pinpricks of light showing through the glass. 

I suddenly noticed that I was wearing clean clothes: a grey t-shirt at least – I couldn't feel my legs very well, other than the vague sensation of dull razors being scraped across my skin. I also noticed my hair… My hair had been cut. At least, it wasn't in my face, I couldn't feel it against my ears, and I couldn't feel a ponytail. What had possibly happened -?

Quatre burst back in the door, followed closely by someone else, taller and wearing green with long brown hair twisted into two braids - 

Sally - Sally Po. 

Quatre stopped on one side of my bed, hands gripping the bedrail where - 

My hands were tied. I could barely feel them. But they were tied to the bedrail.

So. Nothing had changed. My stomach dropped. Maybe I would have been better 

off dead. 

But Quatre was looking excitedly up at Sally. "See? She's awake!" he exclaimed; Sally looked down at me before glancing at the monitors that seemed to surround the bed on both sides. 

"Yes," she replied. "Heart rate's still a little low, but that should improve." She looked down at me. "Alison, can you understand me?" 

I blinked, managed a miniscule nod but winced at the pain that shot up my 

neck as a result. 

"All right. Listen, I'm going to have to leave that tube down your throat for a little longer, just to be safe." She looked up, addressing Quatre, "Would you get her a pen and some paper?" 

"Right away," Quatre answered, rushing out of the room again. As he left, Sally looked back down at me, checking the IVs in my arms and the bandages that seemed to cover every inch of my body. "Alison," she said, finishing her brief checkup and looking at my face once more, "I'm going to be blunt. I'm sure you know - you were on the verge of death when they brought you back here. You've lost a lot of blood; you're malnourished and you have quite a few broken ribs. You've been in a coma for a week." 

A *week*? 

"You would have bled to death had they left you there," she continued, voice level and quiet. "You stopped breathing twice since then - that's why I'd like to leave that tube there for a while; I'd feel safer if you were hooked up to the respirator a bit longer. If you're in pain I can give you something for it." 

Hell yes, I was in pain. Every part of me hurt - it hurt to lie on my back, like lying on sandpaper although I knew there was a mattress beneath me. The entire left half of my face was numb, although my cheek throbbed painfully in synch with my heartbeat. My arms and legs stung, my midsection felt like one big bruise. I felt like I'd been through a blender a couple hundred times.

And that was only the tip of the physical pain.

I didn't even want to think about how cold and empty my mind felt. 

"Here!" Quatre's voice rang out as he returned, handing a pen and paper to Sally. She looked from them to the bedrail – and my tied hands. 

"We're going to have to untie her," she said curtly. 

Quatre looked at my bound hands as well, paused for a moment. I saw something flash in his eyes - something that looked like... betrayal. Pain. He looked down at me, green eyes boring into mine as if searching for something. Then, "All right. Just - don't tell the others." 

I suddenly noticed the ghost of a bruise on his chin. 

My heart nearly stopped - I had... 

I had given him that bruise. The last time he... 

The last time he'd untied me. 

And I knew all about betrayal and pain myself. I knew about it so well that at that very second I couldn't fathom why I was lying here still breathing. 

Didn't he know that I couldn't be trusted? I didn't trust myself – I had no fidelity and no – 

No memories. Not of any allegiance to either OZ or the pilots. Giniko had taken care of that, when she had burned my mind in the cockpit of Deathscythe. All I knew was that I was a nobody who couldn't be trusted and who now knew nothing but betrayal – 

Quatre gave me no more time to think as he reached down and silently untied 

my wrists. 

"All right, help her up," Sally said, setting the paper aside to reach over and slide a hand behind my back just as Quatre did the same. My eyes widened and despite the tube in my mouth I gasped in pain at the contact – their arms on my back set my skin on fire wherever they touched, and the pressure of their hands felt like they were branding their handprints into my back.

Quatre winced and Sally looked down sharply. 

"I'm sorry," Quatre whispered, as they lifted me and propped another pillow behind my back. It might as well have been covered in burning tar, for all the comfort it gave me. 

Sally turned and handed me the paper and pen. 

I lifted my hand, shaking from the effort of that action alone but nonetheless trying to make it work, to write out on the paper what I had to tell Quatre right now, because – 

Because somehow the look in his eyes was only tearing the hole in my gut deeper. Because somehow, with no loyalties, I felt an attachment to him and the pain in his eyes and I couldn't stand that it had been my fault – 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I scratched out, shoving the pad at him, looking at him and trying to ask his forgiveness even though I didn't really know why, because it wasn't like I mattered, even to myself. But I had to get his eyes to brighten, so they wouldn't look like they did now. 

So I could forget that I'd betrayed him. Because something inside me *hurt* at the thought of betraying him.

But I couldn't forget, because I knew that I had no friends. I had no loyalties. I had no purpose. I would be so much better off dead - 

"It's all right," Quatre's soft voice broke my fervent thoughts. "I forgive you." 

With those six words, he thought he could absolve me. With that look in his eyes that was soft and compassionate, that was anything but how Duo had looked at me – 

No. Don't think about that. 

But there was still a problem here. 

"Why did you -" I began to write, but suddenly Quatre's hand had shot out and grabbed the pen, effectively interrupting me and I looked up at him, wondering why. 

"Because," he said, softly, forcefully, "you're my friend. You're *our* friend. I don't care what anyone else says."

I blinked up at him. I couldn't believe what he was saying. After I'd – 

After I'd betrayed him, so personally, after he'd trusted me before and let me go only to end up hurt… He still trusted me. 

I couldn't believe that. It was all I could do to sit there and stare at him, and – 

"Thank you," I wrote. "Thank you –"

His slender fingers covered my small, bruised ones and I looked up at him. 

"It's all right," he said. "It'll all work out somehow. I promise."


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Nope, not even after watching 10 eps in a row, they're still not mine… 

Disclaimer: Nope, not even after watching 10 eps in a row, they're still not mine… 

AN: Sorry this part is short! I promise, the next part will be longer… and more explanatory. Hm. Is that a word…? ;O

Walking The Dividing Line

Part 10

I didn't know how it was all going to work out, though. I spent days just lying there, drifting in and out of consciousness. Sally had given me something for the pain, but it only dulled the blade with which the sensation raked my skin. Every inch of me was on fire; even the tube down my throat to insure that I would keep breathing was painful. 

The only thing that I welcomed was the silence. My head was silent, no longer filled with turmoil or static or frantic screaming. Ever since I had been carried from that hell: the hell that had consisted only of the shadow of Duo and the innumerable ways he'd come up with to tear my body – and what was left of my mind – to shreds, my mind had been blissfully silent. 

I knew it was because of what Giniko had done when she had burned my mind with that machine, when she had tied me into Deathscythe and sent me into some kind of dream. She had burned away some integral part of me that I could no longer even remember to miss, and it had silenced the static in my head so that I had nothing left.

Nothing but recognition, and the memories of Duo and – 

I didn't want to think about that. If I thought about that I would drive myself crazy. Somehow I knew that. 

And it seemed like the only thing that kept me sane even now was Quatre's quiet murmuring; he would sit here with me and keep me company even though I couldn't talk or sit long enough to write more than a few simple sentences. Still he would sit and talk to me – most of the time I couldn't even tell what he was saying, drifting somewhere between waking and dreaming, pain and dull numbness. 

And then the tube came out. 

The painkillers continued, and Quatre brought me soup and still no one else would talk to me – no one else had come to see me. I began to wonder if the others were even *here*. I was sure he'd told me at some point but in my hazy drifting I couldn't remember. My throat was too sore to talk and the cuts on my mouth and face were still healing – and slowly at that – and so I was still limited to a pen and paper. I didn't have the energy to ask him about the other pilots, and somehow I didn't care. The only world I knew was this room with its various medical monitors and the bed I was confined to and the chair on which Quatre would sit and watch me. And I didn't want to know anything more. 

Unfortunately, that existence was shattered one morning when the door opened to reveal not Quatre, but Wufei. He was scowling and carrying a bowl of soup; he brought it curtly over to the bed and handed it to me with the demeanor of one who'd rather throw it in my face than place it in my hands. 

I flinched involuntarily as his fingers brushed mine briefly; then I looked up at him, suddenly curious as to why he *hadn't* actually thrown it in my face. Aside from… well, aside from Duo or possibly Giniko, neither of whom I wanted to think about right now, I could scarcely think of another person who hated me with more vehemence than Chang Wufei. Why he was – 

I blinked, suddenly remembering strong arms and a heartbeat – 

Somehow he was still standing there, just staring at me with a mixture of severe dislike and something that looked almost like awe but couldn't possibly have been. My throat was feeling slightly less painful than had become the norm, and so I attempted words. 

"Where's… Quatre?" My voice was soft and scratchy from pain and disuse; Wufei looked almost surprised, as if he hadn't expected me to address him. 

He blinked, still scowling. "He's busy. Eat." 

And he left. 

I sat there for a moment, just staring at the doorway through which he'd disappeared, shutting the metal hatch firmly behind him. There were partially-remembered strings of thought running through my mind and hazy half-sensations dancing across my skin, leaving me lost in a world that I could only remember in bursts – a world that I didn't want to remember, ever. 

Wufei had – 

I blinked. Wufei *had* been the one to carry – 

He'd carried me out of that hell, he'd saved me from –

_"You would have bled to death had they left you there," she continued, voice level and quiet._

I ate the soup slowly, wincing as the warm liquid slid down my raw throat and attacked my still-irritated stomach. If it were my choice, despite the pain I would have rather not eaten anything, because eating actually hurt more. But neither Sally nor Quatre would hear of it, and insisted that I ate. Sometimes… 

Sometimes I didn't know why they bothered.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Man, shouldn't they be mine yet

Disclaimer: Man, shouldn't they be mine yet? Ah well, guess not… Don't own 'em and I bet I never will.

AN: Look! Explanations! Kind of… Okay, and just to let you know… I cheated. I know I cheated. But I'm the author and I can do that, right? And just so you don't get confuzzled here…. the first section is… well, I don't think it's from any one person's point of view, per se. It just… well, it just kind of *is*. But I had to do it that way… really! Anyway, right after this first section it switches back to Alison's POV, as it should be, and I promise I'll leave it like that for the rest of the story. No more cheating. Really!

Walking The Dividing Line

Part 11

She sat cross-legged on the floor, although the room held both a chair and a bed. Her arms were crossed and her eyes glittered angrily as she stared up at the boy who stood before her, his face set and expressionless, blue eyes fixed on her lean form. 

She'd been in here a week, was her guess, and this was the first time someone had come in to ask her questions. Food had been shoved in the door every day, but that had been it since she'd gotten here. She wondered what had piqued their interest now. 

"What the hell were you doing with him?" The boy's voice was gruff and his demeanor straightforward as she stared up at him, mouth tight, daring him to make her speak. 

Heero Yuy. She knew who he was – she knew about all the Gundam pilots and their histories. She'd read all the documentation. She'd even managed to steal one, all for her very own. 

Heero glared down at her, his expression unchanged by her refusal to answer. "I will ask you again," he said slowly. "What were you doing with him?" 

Giniko sighed. Well, she might as well tell him anyway, she mused. It wasn't like OZ was going to come and take care of this – she was on her own. She had been since she'd taken the Deathscythe, now fit with her own rigged-up version of the machine used to extract the information from Alison's mind before. 

No. She'd been on her own long before that. 

Besides. She was proud of what she had done. Why *shouldn't* she tell him? What was he going to do? Kill her? It wasn't like she really cared – she knew that her life could be thrown away just as easily as anyone else's. All she cared about was getting her due. And how would that happen if no one knew the depths of her scheme? No, she would tell him just what she had been doing with Duo Maxwell.

"Weeeell," she sighed, "I wanted him. I like him. He's pretty."   
Heero looked down at her, his eyes just barely flashing with well-hidden confusion. 

"I wanted him," Giniko repeated. "So I took him." 

On the inside, Heero was incredulous – what the hell was this girl talking about? He knew she was affiliated with OZ – she was even wearing the uniform of a high-ranking lieutenant. But for her to claim that she had simply taken Duo because… because he was "pretty"… 

He had noticed, however, that she didn't seem to be completely mentally stable. Perhaps this was one of the reasons why. He had been the one to apprehend her and bring her back here; she had screamed about Duo and Deathscythe the whole way back. "Her" Duo and "her" Deathscythe.

Well, then, if he wasn't going to get a good reason for Duo's abduction out of her, perhaps he could at least get a clue as to what she'd done to him while he'd been her captive. 

*That* was what didn't compute. Heero agreed that something was indeed wrong with Duo – Wufei had had to shoot him in order to bring him back here, and Quatre had agitatedly explained more than once that it was Duo who had been inflicting Alison's wounds. 

Heero still didn't know what to think about Alison – other than the fact that he still didn't really trust her – but he knew what Duo thought about her. The loudmouthed baka had made that clear often enough before up and leaving on his own in an obviously failed attempt to rescue her. Heero knew that causing the kind of damage he'd seen on Alison was the last thing the Duo Maxwell he knew would have done. 

And there was the hard evidence at hand as well – ever since he'd been brought back, Duo had needed to be tied down and locked in his room. Trowa was keeping guard over him at this very moment. The Duo they'd recovered was sadistic, cold, and believed they were all his enemies. He would wake up screaming for this girl – Giniko – and had threatened Trowa and Wufei to no end during their watches. Sally had examined him and said that it was some type of drug-induced personality change, that the part of his brain that controlled *who* he was had been affected. 

She said she believed it was temporary, and hoped that it would wear off given time. 

His bouts had, thankfully, been getting shorter and more intermittent, and less violent when they did come. Perhaps that was a good sign.

"Then what did you do to him?" Heero asked bluntly. 

Her brown eyes sparkled up at him, and he could see the pride in her face as she opened her mouth to speak. 

"What did I do to him? Oh, nothing much, really," she said, her voice low and he could hear the pride in her words as well. "He just wasn't being cooperative. He was too hung up on that pathetic waste of a girl – on his *Alison*." She spat the name out like it was filth on her tongue.

Ah. So this was all connected somehow. And that was obviously a sore spot.

"So I just fixed that, made him more agreeable. I *do* so like him better this way, don't you?" she asked lightly, looking up at Heero. 

Heero glared down at her, and wondered again what the hell was wrong with this girl. 

There was a knock on the door, interrupting his thoughts and he strode over, opening it a crack as the girl sat on the floor, motionless, and watched him. 

It was Wufei; Heero looked at the Chinese pilot through narrowed eyes, wondering what he wanted. 

"What is it?" 

"I want to speak with her," Wufei said calmly. "I believe we would be more productive if we implemented various methods of interrogation. Besides," the Shenlong pilot smirked just a bit, "it doesn't seem like you were getting all that much out of her."

"Hn," Heero replied, but he had to admit that perhaps Wufei was right. He stepped aside to allow him passage, and then closed the door, leaning on it, arms crossed as he watched Wufei stand before the girl. 

"What do you know about the traitor?" 

Giniko blinked up at Wufei, and an icy smile spread across her face. "Oh, that's right, she's a traitor to you as well, isn't she?" 

"What do you know about her?" Wufei's voice was firm and his tone made it clear that he didn't intend to play around. 

"I know a lot about her," Giniko said smugly, her eyes flashing again and her icy smile remaining. "I know more about her than she knew about herself, the poor little thing," she commented, sarcasm dripping from her voice like syrup. 

Wufei's eyes narrowed as he stared down at their insolent captive. "*What* do you know?" he repeated. He wanted answers about Alison, and he wanted them now. He wanted to know what the hell was so important about this girl, why OZ had wanted her back. And more than that, why Quatre would *make* him carry her out of there when the only logical thing – the only just thing – to do would have been to let the traitor bleed to death. He didn't understand – he needed this prisoner to tell him why he should have had to swallow his pride and save that damned girl's life.

"Oh, I know that she was confused. I know that she couldn't remember a thing about her loyalties – I know that the only thing she *did* know was that her beloved Duo-chan had betrayed her," Giniko said, that same smug undertone still coloring her words. "I made sure she remembered that." 

"So you wiped her memory," Heero observed, pushing away from the door to walk over and stand beside Wufei." 

"I was doing her a favor," Giniko spat. "She was so weak – too weak to remember with whom her loyalties laid. She was pathetic and a traitor to OZ and not worth the kindness I showed her by wiping all of that from her worthless little mind. I even tried to give her the easy way out, to leave her in a fantasy world with her Duo, but she wouldn't have it. She had to make it hard on herself. She had to be uncooperative. So I let Duo-chan have his fun with her." 

And Giniko smiled up at the two pilots, who stood there taking in what she'd just confessed to. 

So Giniko – OZ, essentially – thought Alison was a traitor to them as well, Wufei mused. This just got better and better.

"You keep saying 'she was,'" Heero commented, crossing his arms over his chest once more. "You believe Duo killed her?" 

Giniko's face suddenly registered what could almost be called shock. Almost immediately, however, the smug smile fell back into place. "Don't *tell* me you didn't leave her there to die. Getting soft, are we?" 

"That's not for you to decide," Wufei spat, and turned to Heero. "I've had enough." 

"Hn," Heero agreed, and they turned and strode out the door, slamming it behind them and leaving Giniko to herself once more.

***

(Back to Alison's POV – you're safe now!)

"They've agreed to let you stay," Quatre said, taking his familiar seat beside my bed. He sat and looked at me, and I could see the relief in his face. He had been arguing with the other pilots for nearly a day, he'd said, trying to get them to see that I wasn't about to up and leave, wasn't about to pull a gun on all of them or release the base's location to OZ. He'd even said that an OZ lieutenant had come after them not soon after I'd left as well – I could only assume that it was the "Zechs" Giniko had mentioned, and that they had only barely managed to drive him off. That Heero and Wufei had thought that was my doing. 

I didn't blame them, I supposed. I could remember taking Quatre down and leaving, and before that I could remember being told at gunpoint by Heero that I'd lost it and tried to – no, actually fought – Wufei. If it were up to me, I mused, I didn't know that I would trust myself either. 

But it wasn't up to me; I couldn't remember any allegiance I had possibly ever had to OZ, and with his unending kindness Quatre was quickly winning over my loyalty here and now. I had been left floating in a void of confusion, and Quatre's hand was pulling me out, giving me something to trust even when I couldn't trust myself. Even with whatever it was Giniko had done to me, when she'd emptied my mind and left me there with Duo to die – 

I shuddered involuntarily, and Quatre looked at me, concerned. "Alison?" 

"It's nothing," I said softy; I was glad my voice was working but it was still soft and it hurt to speak. I was getting used to that, however, seeing as it still hurt to do much of anything. It even hurt to think. 

Especially about Duo. 

But Duo wasn't here now - Quatre had also said that despite his unwillingness to even acknowledge the pilots as his allies when he'd first been brought back, his mind had been slowly returning to normal. Actually Quatre wouldn't tell me much about Duo at all - I thought he might have been too afraid he'd upset me, and I had to admit that he was probably right - but he had said that Duo was getting better. And that was all I needed to know. 

I still wanted to know, however, why Quatre had saved me in the first place. 

No - it hadn't been Quatre. It had been Quatre's voice, but it had been Wufei's arms that had carried me out of there. And I had been left so confused... 

I couldn't believe that Wufei hadn't killed me even more than I couldn't believe Quatre's willingness to keep me alive. But I was learning not to question it. Quatre wouldn't allow it, as if he were somehow telling me I didn't have to think about it, perhaps because he knew I would drive myself insane like that. And I hadn't even seen Wufei again since he'd brought me soup in place of Quatre that once, and somehow I wasn't sure if I wanted to see him again or not. His presence had somehow reminded me all too much of what I'd been through. 

My body also reminded me, every waking moment and sometimes even in my sleep, of the hell I'd been through as well. It had been barely two weeks and my wounds were taking their time healing. All of them. 

Despite Quatre's kindness, I still didn't know who to trust. I didn't know why he had been willing to take me in, save his own endless inherent trust, and now I honestly didn't know how he'd gotten the other pilots to agree to let me stay. 

Was there something I didn't know? 

Despite my usual recent willingness to accept whatever Quatre said at face value, this was something I had to know. It had been spinning in my mind each time I woke up and found that I was still *alive*. 

"How... did you convince them?" I asked him slowly, and I saw something flash through his green eyes as he looked at me. 

He sighed. "Heero and Wufei spoke with Giniko." 

I blinked as I sat there, feeling my stomach drop through the floor. "Giniko?" I whispered, almost afraid that if I spoke her name she would appear, she would take me back *there* and leave me hung on the wall like a prize – 

"Alison?" I looked up to see Quatre peering at me, concern once again present in those green eyes - when wasn't it, lately? - and worry coloring his features. 

"She's... here?" 

He nodded, slowly. "Yes, she is. She's locked up; I don't know what we're going to do with her." 

I blinked. Was locking her up really going to keep her away? 

"Alison, she... I promise. Nothing will happen to you," Quatre said softly, leaning closer as if to make sure I was all right. I supposed he must have cared, but I couldn't think about that right now. All I could think about was how I did *not* want to go back there, how I did *not* want to see her face or hear her voice ever again. 

No. I wasn't going to let her do this to me. I was going to let it go because if I kept looking over my shoulder – 

I blinked, and focused on Quatre. "Sorry," I apologized softly. 

He shook his head. "Alison, there's nothing to apologize for. I can understand… how much she must upset you."   
I nodded slowly, but it was too painful and I stopped. 

"Why don't you get some rest?" Quatre suggested, as if that would take my mind off the whole matter. 

"I guess…. I am tired…" I murmured, slowly lowering myself onto the pillow, my stomach still churning with a mixture of hatred and fear. 

I *wasn't* going to let her get to me. 

Or him. He couldn't get me here either. With Quatre sitting here, I would be safe. 

Safe… 


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Much as I would like to, I do not own Gundam Wing

Disclaimer: Much as I would like to, I do not own Gundam Wing. :(

AN: I can't believe it – I just wanted to put in a MAJOR "Thank You!!!!!" to my best friend (who I think is on Fanfic.net under the name Prophesygirl, check her stuff out) for all the help she's given and continues to give me! How could I forget that?

Walking The Dividing Line

Part 12

There was a soft creak – somehow the sound reached my ears and pulled me from the black void in which I was floating; I was yanked back into pain as I opened my eyes to my dark room. 

There was someone at the door – 

I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, feel the churning sensation in my stomach as I peered into the darkness, trying to see who was there. 

Please let it be Quatre, please let it be Quatre, please let it be Quatre… 

A head poked in through the crack in the doorway, bathed in light from the hallway – 

It was *Duo*. 

My heart stopped. I couldn't think oh God keep him away just don't let him hurt me any more please I thought it was over please – 

"Aly?" he whispered, squinting in the darkness of my room, and his blue eyes caught mine – 

He took a step into the room and despite the immense pain it caused I felt myself curl up in fear – it was an involuntary reaction, seeing as my mind had been taken over by static, the same screaming static that had been throwing itself around my head before, when – 

I couldn't see his hands, what if he had a knife, what if he had a lighter, what if he had a gun, what if he had something worse -? 

He took another step into the room, then another. I could barely breathe. 

Get him away from me please don't let him hurt me – 

I wanted to scream at him, to feel only the anger that was rising instead of the intense terror that coated it. I wanted to get up and stand before him and punch him, kick him, scream at him, do anything but what I was actually doing, curling up into a ball and letting the fear screaming in my head take over. 

But somehow that was all I could do, to roll up in a ball and pray that he would make this quick and let me fall. 

The light from the doorway outlined his lean form from the back, casting sharp shadows about the edges of his body as his braid swung behind him. The moonlight from the window caught his features and made them pale as they burned themselves into my mind all over again. His chest was bare and his right shoulder had been bandaged, the crisp white tape reflecting the light off brighter than his face. 

He looked concerned, but I had seen him look like that before. His eyes looked dark in the pale blue moonlight and I still couldn't see his hands – 

He stopped next to my bed and looked at me, just standing there outlined in half-halogen half-moon light, dark eyes looking into mine and I just wanted him to leave me alone because I didn't care, I couldn't fight him anymore. The fear was too strong, winning over even my burning anger and hatred and I didn't want him to hurt me again. I couldn't take it. I hadn't broken before but I didn't know how much I had left.

I was too scared to even move. Too scared to even scream. How the hell was I this scared – I couldn't think, I couldn't hear anything but his laughter and the static growing in my ears. I wanted so badly to stand up to him, to throw him away from me and out of my mind – my life – 

"Aly?" he whispered again; I flinched away from his voice, remembering its razor-sharp tone and laughing, singsong words. I didn't want to hear that again. 

He raised his right hand gingerly, bringing it towards my face – I screwed my eyes shut, waiting for the sharp pain, the slap that would come and then he would tell me I couldn't fall away yet and I would open my eyes to that bright metal room and hear him laughing – 

His palm touched my face where the red, vaguely handprint-shaped mark had burned itself into the skin, my cheek bruised and swollen and tender from being slapped so many times. His hand fit perfectly over the welt that he himself had raised.

I tensed even more, my broken limbs screaming out in pain from the movement but my mind somehow telling me that if there was less skin exposed, maybe he would make fewer cuts – 

I bit my lip, feeling the barely-healed cut reopen under the pressure, tasting blood and memories in my mouth and knowing that it was all over again. He was going to kill me this time. 

Only somehow, this time I cared. 

"Aly," he repeated, and I felt his hand slide down to trace along my bottom lip, wiping away the blood, and I nearly screamed. 

I wanted him to stop touching me.

"They cut your hair," he said, voice soft but flat, tone holding no recognizable emotion, just a stated fact.

I opened my mouth, tried to speak, trying to pull enough air into my lungs to muster the words that were screaming themselves in my head. I had to do something. I couldn't stand for this. I *wouldn't* stand for this.

Go away. Go away. Go away – 

"Go away." 

The hand pulled away from my chin so suddenly that I was sure he was going to slap me this time. My eyes were clenched shut so tightly that I could feel them stinging with tears. If only he would go away – 

"Aly, I'm – I'm so – "   
"Maxwell!!" 

"Duo!"   
"Alison!"

There was shuffling as I heard the door swing fully open, still too afraid to even open my eyes. I heard the lights click on, saw red through my closed eyelids, and heard more yelling and more noise as I sat drowning in fear-stricken static. 

"Duo, what are you doing here?" 

Something in my head registered the voice as "Trowa." 

More shuffling. Protests – Duo was shouting protests. 

"Wait! No – stop! It's not – I just wanted to see – *stop*!"

"Shut up." 

Wufei. 

"Alison?!" 

Quatre – 

Quatre. My eyes flew open and he was crouched before me, green eyes searching mine for recognition – for *sanity* - and I wanted nothing more than for him to make all the noise go away. 

"Wait!" Duo was still screaming – past Quatre's shoulder I saw Wufei and Trowa drag him out of the room, his blue eyes panicked and voice frantic. 

I didn't want to listen to him anymore. I didn't want him to hurt me anymore. 

"Quatre – " 

"Alison!" He leaned in and enveloped me in a gentle hug, attempting to comfort me and yet keep his – unwittingly painful – touch as light as possible. 

Despite the lancing pain it caused, I lifted my arms to grab him for support. 

He stiffened in surprise, then leaned closer, as if to let me know that it was going to be okay, if only I could believe him. 

"I don't – I don't want him to – to hurt me – again – " I cried into his shoulder, painfully aware of the tears that were escaping my eyes, the saltwater stinging the cuts on my face and neck as they fell. I couldn't think about anything, couldn't feel anything but the immense relief that Duo was gone and that he couldn't touch me – couldn't hurt me – anymore. Even the anger was gone in the wake of such relief.

We sat there, like that, for a long time. Or maybe it only felt like an eternity – all I knew was that I was safe there, that Duo was gone, that Quatre wouldn't let him hurt me. And that was all I wanted – all I needed – to know. 

Until Wufei's voice shattered it. 

"He's back in his room," the Chinese pilot's voice rang out curtly, and I blinked as Quatre quickly released his delicate hold on me and stood to face the door where Wufei stood. 

I blinked in the bright light, my eyes sore and still stinging from the tears that I suddenly found myself wishing I had not cried. My stomach churned – something about Wufei made me want to shrink away and die for having shed tears at all in the first place. 

"What happened?" Quatre asked softly; whether he was addressing Wufei or myself I did not know, but it was Wufei who spoke first. 

"He escaped his bindings and snuck out while I was trading watches with Barton. It will not happen again." 

I could have sworn that last sentence was directed at me, but I was sure I had just imagined it. 

Quatre nodded. "All right." He took a step towards the door, and I felt my stomach drop again. 

I didn't want him to leave me alone. I didn't want to be left alone again with the darkness and the sound of Duo's voice, and the ghost of his touch on my cheek and mouth. 

I didn't want him to leave me alone.

"Qua-" 

He stopped and turned before I could finish; I fell silent, feeling suddenly silly having to ask him to stay with me. 

But – 

I didn't want him to leave me alone. 

"Please," I whispered, begging, "don't leave me alone. Please." 

Wufei stared at me. 

"Of course," Quatre replied, swiftly taking his usual seat beside my bed. "Alison, I'm sorry – of course I'll stay." 

"Th-thank you." 

Wufei slammed the door behind him.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine, never was and never will be… 

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine, never was and never will be… 

AN: Sorry this is taking so long!! *Certain* people (*ahem* ::looks at Wufei sitting on top of her loft::) are not cooperating. 

Walking The Dividing Line

Part 13

"Hurry up and eat." 

I raised my eyes to meet Wufei's angry onyx gaze as he sat in Quatre's usual chair, arms crossed over his chest and his usual scowl marring his features. I briefly wondered if he was capable of looking any way other than immensely angry or bothered. Probably not. 

It was early afternoon; the sun's rays cast bright golden patches about my floor from the open window, and yet Wufei still managed to bring about an air of darkness and anger, even in this broad daylight. Quatre had been called out by Trowa, only to be replaced fifteen minutes later with the scowling Chinese boy before me and a bowl of ever-familiar soup. 

I wasn't very hungry, and had been eating rather slowly. The spoon had only traveled to my mouth perhaps three times in the past five minutes. I supposed I could see why he would be getting annoyed. 

There was a loud sigh from beside me; yes, he was most certainly annoyed. 

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, setting the bowl aside with bandaged and still slightly-shaking hands. "I'm not hungry." 

He looked at me for a moment. "I don't care. Eat." 

I blinked at him. What? 

He picked up the bowl from the bedside table and shoved it back into my hands. "Eat," he commanded again, his tone flat but firm.

"What – why?" 

"Because," he replied, "I said so."

I slowly picked up the spoon, sipping another spoonful of soup and looking at him, curious as to his actions. He didn't like me – his previous conduct and current expression showed that clearly enough. I was sure he thought I was a traitor and that I deserved nothing less than death. So… so why…? 

"Why are you -?" I began again, but he sat up straighter and cut me off. 

"Because that *baka* Winner *insists* that you are not the enemy. Because he *insists* that I come up here and give you your damned food, and that I stay here and make sure you eat it. Because he *insists* that you are worth saving. So stop asking stupid questions and eat your soup."

I stared at him; his sharp words resonating throughout my head as he looked at me with the same annoyed look that he'd had since I'd woken up here to find I wasn't dead. 

"Oh." 

He sighed again – another loud, annoyed sigh – and sat back in his chair, watching me force the soup down with narrowed eyes. I eventually managed to finish the meal and handed the empty bowl and spoon back to him, his cream-colored hands grabbing them out of mine.

He set the bowl down on the floor, showing no signs of getting up or leaving. I looked at him, again curious but this time as to why he was staying. 

"I know what you're going to ask," he said sharply, and I blinked in surprise. "Don't think for a second that I actually care about your condition; I don't give a damn whether you live or die. In fact, I am sick of being stuck with watch duty, sick of cleaning up after Maxwell's messes, sick of dealing with that insane OZ 'soldier' –"

"You talked to Giniko?" I asked, interrupting him despite his harsh tone and angry words. Then I suddenly mentally slapped myself – I remember Quatre telling me that Wufei and Heero had spoken with her.

"Yes," he replied, the word angry and his tone of voice told me he didn't want to be bothered, didn't want to talk to me. Well, I already knew that.

"What… did she say?"

His eyes narrowed even more. "That is not your concern." 

"Yes it is," I said, voice flat and firm, my tone matching his and I saw something flash through his eyes that told me he hadn't expected me to talk back. But there was something else in his eyes that was making me angry, riling me up and I wanted answers from him, anything more than annoyance. "It *is* my concern because she killed Duo and she –"

"Maxwell is not dead," he said, with the tone of someone who couldn't believe they had to tell me this.

"Yes he is! He's dead and I don't know who's left but… but it's not… I don't…" I could hear tears beneath my voice even though none were welling up in my eyes, and wanted to slap myself for it. Suddenly when I thought of Duo, of that grinning face staring up at me and those slender fingers holding any one of a dozen blades, scraping its edge across my skin – when I thought of him, all I felt was empty. And afraid. 

"Don't be so weak." 

Wufei's voice cut into my thoughts and I looked up; I was met with his blank face, his expression suddenly reminding me of Heero's tightly-reigned gaze. His words had been hollow and empty, suddenly, no longer even filled with anger. Just… empty. Like me.

Something in that gaze made my stomach drop, as he quickly stood and scooped up the bowl and spoon. 

"You are obviously done, and you don't need watching," he said shortly, and turned on his heel to leave.

My stomach was already churning with fear and confusion – I didn't understand him, didn't understand Giniko or what she had done, didn't understand why I was still alive. All of Quatre's words, all his reassurances cracked and fell away when Wufei had looked at me with that empty gaze, when his curt and emotionless words told me he didn't care if I lived or died and that he didn't want to be bothered with any of this. When those syllables that fell out of his mouth told me what I already knew –that I was weak.

I didn't blame him. More often than not I was left drifting in apathy, confused and lost and *I* didn't know why I was still alive. 

But that wasn't true. I did know why I was still alive – I was still alive because someone – because *Wufei* – had carried me out of that hell and brought me here. Somehow I didn't know if it was any better in this bed than it had been shackled to that wall. But then – 

"Hey!" 

He stopped, almost as surprised by my voice as I was. When he turned, his narrowed eyes showed anger once more. It was better than that hollow look.

"What." 

I didn't want to be weak. I didn't want to be broken and I didn't want Giniko or Duo to loom over me like the hissing, dark shadows that they were. I suddenly wanted to prove that there was a reason I was alive, that I wasn't just here out of Quatre's kindness. That I was *worth* something. Because I couldn't live like this anymore – I couldn't lie here and swim in that sea of cold memories and doubts and silver blades because it was eating me alive from the inside out. 

"I am *not* weak." I was startled by my words, but more so by the forceful tone of my voice. And then, suddenly, by the scraping pain in my throat that followed my insistence, leaving me coughing. 

Over that, I could hear something else – 

Wufei was laughing. He was laughing at me. Not loudly, not amusedly, but a cold, self-confident sort of chuckle that grated against my ears and mind.

*Now* I was angry. 

"Yes you are," he pointed out flatly. "Look at you, onna, you can't even get out of bed to put your own dishes away." 

And he held up the soup spoon and bowl, eyes glinting darkly and daring me to get up and take them from him. To put them away for myself. 

I was *not* weak.

His expression didn't change in the least as I stiffly threw my covers off – God, I clenched my teeth, how that action alone had hurt so damn much – but despite the stinging tears in my eyes that the pain of my slightest movement brought, I only clenched my teeth harder and slowly swung my legs over the side of the bed. 

I could see now the bandages wrapped around them as well, and the slightly-large pair of boxers I was wearing. Where there wasn't crisp white tape, my skin was mottled brown and blue and black and red with bruises. 

I gasped as my bare feet touched the cold metal floor. Then I stood up, and nearly bit my tongue through to keep from crying out. 

My skin felt too-tight and painful, my legs felt like they were too weak to support my weight and my chest and midsection throbbed so painfully that I had to convince myself that I wasn't really seeing red spots before my eyes. 

Wufei just stood there and watched, his eyes unreadable as I turned and took a step forward. 

It hurt. Oh God, I hadn't thought I could hurt more but I most certainly did. But all I could think about was that look on his face and that note in his voice, that daring tone and how angry it made me. 

How badly I wanted to be *worth* something. 

I took another step.

And another. And another, until – my entire body howling in pain beyond belief – I reached Wufei, standing in front of the door, one hand on his hip and the other holding my bowl and spoon. 

Routing all my strength towards looking like I wasn't in the intense, screaming pain that I was, I reached out and took the bowl from him and took another step towards the door. 

I was going to show him. I was going to show him that I wasn't weak. 

I couldn't even look up at him, to see what his face looked like, to see if he was angry or something else. I only knew that if I thought about anything but reaching the door and then the hallway, one step at a time, then I was going to – 

I lost it. One step before the door I went crashing to the ground, trying to keep the cry reverberating throughout my mind silent. I felt the bowl and spoon slip out of my grasp and clatter on the floor, I felt my hands reach out to take the brunt of my fall and I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing the pain it would bring.

_Damn it._

But it never came. Instead there was a different kind of pain – the pain associated with someone grabbing me beneath the arms and stopping my fall, and the pain associated with them then slinging my legs up with one arm and walking with me held against their chest. 

My eyes flew open and suddenly I was staring at that blue fabric again, the same warmth beneath me and the same heartbeat steady beside my ear. There were memories screaming at the backdoor of my mind to be let in, the sensations of this touch and this position so familiar that I felt like I was dreaming or falling or being swept away in a sea of… something… 

I caught a glimpse of a reflection in the window – 

All I could see were his cream-colored arms around me, my body startlingly thin and pale and small compared to his chest. Bandages did indeed cover nearly all my exposed skin, and even peeked out from beneath the t-shirt and boxers. My face was also a mess – the skin swollen and red and bruised, my lower left cheek and jaw bandaged, my lip cut and swollen, and the traces of a blade could still be seen slanting down over my mouth. My hair was indeed all gone, reduced to nearly a boys' cut, cropped closely to my scalp and a bit matted from sleep, not even long enough to curl like it always had. 

I blinked, and he set me down on the bed.

I suddenly looked up into his face, which was unreadable save the familiar hint of annoyance coloring his features. But somehow it wasn't as harsh as it was before. 

"I'm not weak," I insisted, but my voice was much softer and less forceful than before. 

"You sure are stupid," he remarked, and then he turned and strode away, picking up my bowl and spoon and shutting the door behind him.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Man, I *still* don't own Gundam Wing

Disclaimer: Man, I *still* don't own Gundam Wing?!

AN: Wow… this is turning into an epic… I swear I didn't mean for it to be this long! I think I can see an end, it's the *getting* there…. Anyways, to make up for the two gazillion chapters and total lack of posting on my part, here's a longer part. ;) 

Walking The Dividing Line

Part 14

It was Quatre who came in later. And it was Quatre who came in the next day, and the day after that. He had this worried look about him, almost as if I was going to break whenever he looked at me, and I couldn't tell why. He gave no indication that he knew about what had happened earlier, and I didn't mention it to him.

All I felt was this burning need inside of me to prove – to whom, I did not know, or if I did, then I wasn't about to admit it, even to myself – that I was not worthless. That I was not weak. No matter how much it hurt, I wanted to prove that I was not an invalid. Because all I could see was Wufei standing beside the door, holding the bowl and spoon, eyes daring me to get up and go over there and take them from him, prove that I didn't need him or anyone else to put my used dishes – or anything, for that matter – away for me. 

Daring me to prove that I wasn't weak, that he should care whether I lived or died. Because *I* had to care whether I lived or died. 

I blinked. 

That was it. 

It was a sunny afternoon, not quite a week after Wufei's silent dare and my complete failure to rise to it. I had seen no one but Quatre and Sally since; I had been mostly left to myself. And my thoughts. 

And my thoughts led me to realize now that I had to care whether I lived or died, or nothing was ever going to change. 

I set down the tech manual I had been idly leafing through. Three days ago I had asked Quatre to bring me all the technical information he could find. If I was going to be confined to bed, I had wanted something to do. And I had wanted something that would make a difference. 

Maybe I could redeem myself yet. He had brought me a huge stack of manuals – I wasn't sure where he had actually gotten them, or even if the other pilots knew or approved of this – and I had been studying them furiously ever since.

But today my mind was elsewhere.

"Quatre?" 

He started and looked over at me – I had barely spoken with him all this time, yet he had insisted on remaining here, sitting with me for most of the day. 

"Alison? What is it?" 

"I want to get up." 

He blinked at me, momentarily confused by my request. "You want to… oh, Alison, you really should wait. It takes time to heal, you know that."

"I've had time," I replied, pulling the covers off, wincing at the still-shooting pain that danced across my limbs at such an action. But I wasn't going to let it bother me. I couldn't let it bother me or I would be stuck here forever and I would fall again and I was sure that if that happened, I might never find my way out.

"Alison…" Quatre trailed off, watching me with wide eyes as I once more pulled my legs to the side of the bed and draped them over the edge. I gripped the bedrail in my bandaged right hand, the metal cold and shocking beneath my fingers. 

"Are you… going to help me… or not?" I asked him from between clenched teeth. This hurt just as much as it had before, and this time I didn't mind asking for help.

He immediately stood and leaned over, placing his hands beneath my arms, fingers gingerly brushing my skin as if he was trying to keep his touch as light as possible. 

"This isn't a good idea…" he muttered, but then I'd slid off the bed, my feet meeting the cold floor again and I was standing in front of him, staring at his chest but I was standing, and that was all that mattered. 

But I'd stood before. I'd walked before. So I was most certainly going to do it now. 

I took a step forward and nearly bumped into his chest. I stopped, looking up at him as he peered down at me through his golden bangs. He shook his head slightly. 

"No, I don't think you should – "

"I can walk," I told him shortly, and raised my hands, placing them on his chest and shoving him away, causing even more pain to run rampant up my arms at the pressure. 

He moved, miraculously, and I took another step, headed for the window. Quatre immediately positioned himself beside me, hands always floating just above my arm, ready to catch me if I were to fall. 

I wasn't going to fall. 

It took a good minute, but I eventually made it to the window without falling once. I grabbed the windowsill for support, pretending that even that motion didn't hurt as much as it did. In reality the cold metal stung my skin even through my bandages, even with the warm sunlight spilling over me. I peered through the glass, hearing Quatre move behind me, intently studying the blue of the sky and the golden brown of the sand below it. 

"Are you satisfied?" he asked softly; I turned around slowly, still clutching the sill for support. 

"No," I said simply. "I want to get better."

His eyes continued gazing at me with that steady aqua-green softness. "You will." 

I nodded, only barely wincing. "Yes, I will." 

"But not if you push yourself," he insisted, pointing back to my bed. "You need rest." 

"I'm sick of resting!" I cried, letting go of the sill with one hand holding it out for emphasis. "I've done nothing but rest and drown in my own mind for three weeks – " 

"One of which you spent in a coma," he put in softly. 

"All right, two weeks! But… but I'm sick of it! I don't want to be like this! I don't want to be so… "

"So weak?" 

I looked up at him, startled. He smiled, a small, knowing smile. 

"…Yeah." My hand dropped to my side and I stared at the floor. "Is that too much to ask?"   
"No," Quatre said simply, coming over and leaning down to wrap one arm beneath mine and around my back, helping me back over to the bed. I let him. 

"Listen, I know what you're trying to do," he said softly, once I was sitting in bed again and he'd taken his seat beside me. 

I looked up at him. "What?" What was I trying to do? This was news to me. 

"You can't win him over just by getting better faster." 

"What?" 

His eyes gazed at me, as if trying to make me feel better with his look alone. "Wufei. You want him to trust you, don't you?" 

Was that it? He hadn't even figured into the equation before – I'd never considered that I wanted any sort of approval from him, or from anyone, for that matter. That couldn't be what this was about – 

"I trust you," Quatre said softly. "Trowa trusts you. Heero and Wufei will too, in their own time. All they can see right now is your actions – they don't understand the motivation behind them. They just don't tend to think like that." 

I didn't really believe him, actually. Heero and Wufei… 

There was a pause.

"And Duo?"

He looked down. "I don't know about Duo." 

"Well, I do," I said softly. I'd been thinking about this, and feeling as if those piercing blue eyes were staring over my shoulder, watching my every action. Watching me fall as I tried to walk the first time, watching me read the manuals, *watching me*. And I couldn't take it. 

"I know about him," I said. "And I don't want to see him. Ever." And I laid down, pulling the blanket stiffly over myself once more, rolling over so that I was facing the wall. I could see the outline of the bed, and of Quatre, in the patch of sunlight that fell across the floor. 

This wasn't about approval. It was about living. 

Right?

***

There was shouting outside my door. I rolled over, blinking in the darkness. What time was it? What was going on? 

I pulled off the sheets, sitting up slowly and sliding stiffly off the bed and onto the hard floor, careful not to step on the pile of tech manuals there. I had been walking for a week now, still confined to my room, and although my body was still stiff and slow to respond I wasn't in as much pain as I had been before. A few of the bandages on my arms and legs had come off, but Sally was reluctant to let the ones on my face be removed, for fear the scarring would be worse then. 

Scarring. Hmph. In the places where the bandages had already been removed my skin was new and pink, the slash marks still clearly visible as scars that would never go away. Duo really had left me torn, and now I could never forget that. Not with all the slashes still visible all over my body. 

I padded over to the door and listened, one hand on the handle, ready to pull it open if need be. The voices were still out there, still shouting loudly at one another. I tried to make out what they were saying. 

"I need to talk with her, *now*!" 

"Heero, wait – she's sleeping, it's the middle of the night! What's so important that – " 

"Giniko is not working for OZ," the first voice – Heero's voice – growled. "She went renegade." 

"And she told you this?" 

That was Trowa, his voice soft but firm. The voice of reason.

"Yes." 

"You'd trust her over Alison?" 

Quatre. 

"Alison has shown nothing to gain my trust – or yours," Heero said coldly. I blinked into the darkness. 

That was true, I thought, feeling my stomach drop. I hadn't. And yet – 

"I trust Alison," Quatre insisted. "She had been manipulated so deeply that she didn't know *who* she trusted. But Giniko wiped that away. And right now I think the most important thing we can do for her is to trust her." 

"I don't." 

"I know that, Heero, but we also have no real reason to trust Giniko," Trowa reasoned. "I realize what she told you but I think that we need time to deal with this. Marching in there and interrogating Alison – after her memory has been wiped – is not going to help the situation any." 

"How do we even know her mind has been wiped?" Heero demanded. "We don't. Giniko told us that as well. I can't believe that you would welcome her back so easily."

"Neither can I," I said, shoving the door open and stepping out into the brightly-lit hall, lights buzzing overhead and the three previously arguing Gundam pilots caught beneath them. One set of green eyes stared at me; the other regarded me with a calm interest as the sole pair of icy blue eyes shot daggers through my heart. 

"I can't believe you took me in so easily," I said, addressing Quatre. "But you did, and I can't thank you enough for that. Heero," I said, turning to the Japanese pilot who was still staring death at me, "what did you want to ask me?"

"What were you doing with Giniko before Duo left?" he asked lowly, not skipping a beat and the tone in his voice made it clear, as if his previous words had not, that he did not trust me. 

"She kidnapped me," I told him curtly. "After I ran away I checked into a motel, and she kidnapped me from there and brought me to an OZ base, or something like that." 

"But she's not working – " 

"She was at the time," I insisted, cutting him off. "She was very much working for OZ when she first captured me. She told me that Zechs or whoever it was had been sent here to deal with you. But soon after, she did take me and leave – that must have been when she left OZ." I paused. "Duo showed up after that. I can remember that. She didn't wipe any of that." 

Heero just blinked, eyes still icy and manner still gruff, almost to the point of annoyance. But that was more Wufei's department, I thought. 

Quatre had just been standing there; now he stood straighter and faced Heero. "She's our friend, Heero. We have to trust her." 

"No we don't," Heero said forcefully. Trowa merely eyed him from his position against the wall, where he was leaning slightly with his arms crossed over his chest, regarding us all with a silent, discerning gaze. 

"Listen, I know you don't trust me," I said slowly. "I know you never trusted me. I can remember that much, at least. I can remember this –" 

And I held up my right wrist and ripped the bandage off of it, so that the old scar that Heero had left me, covered by the newly-laid scar that Duo had slashed over it, was visible in the white halogen light. 

Heero stole a glance at my wrist, then looked back up at me. 

"I know you don't trust me. And I don't blame you. But… but I'm not your enemy here. I don't want to be your enemy. I don't want to go back to OZ, if I was ever with them in the first place. I want… I want to stay here," I added, my voice suddenly small and timid as I let my arm drop back to my side. "I want to help you – all of you. I've seen OZ, and I don't want to be a part of that. Not if they use people like this." 

"Then you tell them that." 

I looked up at Heero; Quatre was staring at him as well. 

"Tell…?" 

"OZ. You tell them that you don't want to have anything to do with them." 

"How…?" 

He reached behind his back and pulled out his gun, gripping it tightly in his hand as he looked up at me. 

"Kill Giniko." 

I blinked. "Kill… You want me to *kill* her?!" 

"Heero!" Quatre protested. 

"Yes. Kill her."

"I can't – I can't kill her!" I blurted out. I didn't want to *see* her ever again, let alone get close enough to her to kill her. And regardless of that, taking a life could never make this right. Not even hers.

"What – you can't kill her, even after she did all *that* to you?" Heero asked ardently, motioning with one hand up and down my body. 

"She didn't do *this* to me," I said coldly. "*Duo* did this to me." 

Suddenly I felt a lot colder, as if the air temperature in the hallway had dropped below freezing. I heard Quatre move beside me, but he said nothing. And so Heero and I just stared at each other through the thick curtain of silence.

"That won't accomplish anything," Trowa said, breaking the silence finally and pushing himself away from the wall to look down at Heero. "We don't need more bloodshed." 

"We don't need *her*," Heero replied; whether he was referring to myself or to Giniko, I couldn't tell. Maybe both. 

"OZ has already tried to turn us against each other – both times using Duo to try to undermine the trust that we need to operate effectively against them. They know that. We can't waste our energy like this. It's only playing us right into their hands," Trowa said. 

"I know that," Heero said coldly, still staring straight at me, and the hand holding the gun twitched. "But I can't trust her." 

I blinked. "I'm sorry." 

"I don't care." 

"Then what *do* you care about?!" I cried, startling Quatre beside me so that he turned to stare at me now instead. But I had had enough of this.

"Alison –" 

"All I hear about is how you don't trust anyone, how you want to kill your enemies and how that's your sole purpose in life. Well, I just want to know – is that all you care about? Killing people? Being the one who's always *right* in the end? We all make mistakes, Heero. We're *human*. Or are you that much higher?"

"Alison –"

"That's enough," Trowa said firmly, yet quietly as ever as I continued to stare at Heero; but to my further annoyance I couldn't tell if my words had even reached the Japanese boy before me. He remained standing there, holding his gun, staring at me with that same icy blue vehemence, the same expressionless expression on his face. 

"This isn't getting us anywhere. Heero, put the gun away – we won't need it tonight," Trowa said calmly, looking down at Heero but making no move. 

Heero cast his glare up at Trowa, but nonetheless tucked his gun back into place. 

"We'll need it soon enough," he said, then turned and walked away. 

"I'm sorry," Quatre said softly, coming up beside me. "It'll take time, but –" 

"He's never really going to trust me," I cut him off, voicing the truth and not what I knew Quatre was going to tell me to try to make me feel better. Because I knew, deep down, that Heero never *was* going to trust me. At least not fully. He didn't trust easily, and I might have had that tentative trust once, before I could remember, but I was never going to have so much of it again. And I knew that. The look in his eyes told me that. 

Beside me, Quatre sighed. 

"This is exactly what they want," Trowa said, his tone darker than before. "They're trying to divide us. And it's working. Damn it." 

"I'm sorry." 

"It's not your fault," Quatre insisted. 

"He's right," Trowa said, looking down at me. I looked up, startled to hear such a thing coming from him. Sure, Quatre had told me Trowa also trusted me, but it had still been a bit hard for me to believe. 

"You've been used. And they're still using you, even though they've thrown you away. Heero is right about one thing: we need to take care of Giniko. And soon." 

Trowa turned and began walking away; I turned to look at Quatre, the worry back in his gaze and he looked at me. 

"And what about Duo?" I asked him softly. 

"I don't know," Quatre replied. "He seems better – almost completely unlike how he was. Much more like his normal self. He…" Quatre trailed off, still looking at me, something almost calculating now about that green-eyed gaze.

"What?" I asked, feeling my stomach drop under that look. There was something he wasn't telling me. Something important. 

"He wants to see you." 

"I don't want to see him," I said, almost too quickly, the words spilling out of my mouth as the ghosts of memories returned to me – his pale frame in the moonlight, his hand on my cheek and my mouth – 

And then what had happened before that, a few weeks ago, his slender hands holding up knife after knife after – 

No. I didn't want to see him. 

"Alison? Alison, you're… I'm sorry." 

I was suddenly enveloped in a warm hug; Quatre held me to him as I stood there, suddenly aware of what he had been about to tell me. 

I was shaking. 

I didn't want to see Duo. Wherever he was, there was pain. Terrible, ripping, shredding, pain. He was the Shinigami, he had been taken by the Shinigami and there was nothing left, nothing in his eyes and his touch brought only coldness and pain. And I couldn't go through that again. 

Because that really *would* break me. 

And I didn't want to break any more.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: Guess what

Disclaimer: Guess what? I don't own Gundam!

AN: Look! Another really long part! Ahhh! *But* - have no fear! The end is in sight! Somewhere…. 

Walking The Dividing Line

Part 15

This was too confining. I was sick of my room – now that I could walk, I wanted to get out of here. I wanted to *do* something. I'd read and reread all of Quatre's tech manuals until my mind nearly thought in circuits. The information wasn't coming back to me, per se, but it also hadn't been hard for me to study or learn. The schematics had veritably leapt off the page and into my head. 

Maybe that was why OZ had used me in the first place. 

I shook my head to clear it. Such thinking was useless now, and I knew that. OZ was a memory – well, not exactly, I thought with a grim smile. It wasn't a memory because Giniko had taken care of that. But the thought of OZ was just something I didn't want to dwell on for very long any more. Perhaps it was the pilots' presence, perhaps it was the knowledge that came from being told how many times they had used me. When I tried to think back, tried to remember having been captured before, with Duo on that space station, all I got back was static haze. Nothing concrete. 

And I didn't mind. That was something I was sure I didn't want to remember. Maybe it was for the better that I could no longer recall it anyway. The here and now that I knew was the pilots, and I wanted to help them. I wanted to make up for what I had done in the past, whatever it was. If they would let me. 

That was a big "if," that one was.

The here and now – my thoughts circled back to this room, with my bed and Quatre's chair and the window and the door, two reminders of just how trapped I really was. Nearly a month had passed and here I was, still confined to the same room that I'd been brought to when I had first been "rescued." 

If one could call it that. I still didn't know the whole situation on that, and I knew that I likely never would. I knew what Quatre had told me, and I knew that he would tell me nothing more than his original story of him and Wufei finding myself and Duo, of Heero taking down and bringing back Giniko. All I had, other than that, was the memory of Wufei's arms around me, and his chest beside me, and the footsteps he took, one after another, to carry me out of that place. 

Wufei. I felt my eyes narrow as I leaned on my familiar spot on the windowsill, gazing out at the ever-changing yet somehow stagnant sand dunes just beyond the compound walls. I hadn't seen him for a while, either. I didn't know how I felt about that – the last time I had seen him he'd stared at me with that dark unreadable gaze, dared me to prove to him that he shouldn't have just let me die. 

Something about that gaze bothered me. There had to be some reason, some motivation – why would he even say that, dare me to fend for myself - ?

There was a loud sound, almost like a muffled explosion; I was flung to the ground, unwittingly crying out as I caught myself with my hands and the shock from the fall reverberated throughout my body. I blinked, and shoved myself to my feet again. What had that been? 

I turned and headed for the door – no matter that I had been told to stay here, no matter that I didn't even remember my way around, I had to see what had happened. If the base was under attack – 

What then? Would they think it was my fault? Did that matter? All I was concerned with at the moment was finding out what had just happened. The details could be worked out later. 

Another sound, another shockwave and I hit the floor again, cursing loudly at the empty room as another wave of pain coursed through me. Dammit, why wouldn't these wounds just *heal* and let me forget? I struggled to my feet again, muttering another curse as I reached for the door handle. 

I slid the door open and stepped out into the hall, stealing glances left and right before taking another step. No pilots so far. Where were they? For that matter, where was *I* in relation to anything? The fact that I didn't know my way around was certainly going to make itself known now, and I was going to have to deal with that before I did anything else. 

I closed my eyes, wondering what to do next. I couldn't remember my way around – nothing came up when I tried to recall ever having walked these halls before. So either I would have to wander around aimlessly, or I would have to find someone – 

Another explosion rocked the compound, this time slamming me into the wall and eliciting more curses from my battered mouth. I shoved off the wall, annoyed, and turned to the right. Well, I would just pick a way. And that was that. 

I hadn't taken more than five steps when a klaxon suddenly began to wail, its eerie, urgent voice echoing off the metal walls. I stopped, momentarily startled, just listening to the siren screaming and watching the halogen lights bounce off the reflective surfaces all around me. 

This wasn't going to get me anywhere. 

But maybe the flashing panel in the wall off to my right would. 

I stumbled over to the panel; it wasn't much, just a basic access panel that was intermittently flashing red, probably in accordance with the warning klaxon going off in my ears. But maybe… 

I hit a key on the pad, and it stopped flashing red. A menu popped up; I scanned the list, passing down the basic energy and status readouts until I found what I wanted. The map.

It wasn't exactly a map – it was more like a schematic showing where the pipe this particular panel monitored went to. But it also showed where the other pipes in the near area went, and one of them went right to the square labeled "hangar." 

I smiled, traced the path with my finger, and headed off in the direction of the hangar, the alarm still wailing above me. There were more explosions, each one louder and causing a bigger shockwave to follow it; I was thrown to the floor several more times, and now I believed without a doubt that the compound must be under attack. 

My stomach dropped as I neared the location where the hangar should be. Now that I was actually here, what exactly was I going to do? _Baka_, I berated myself, I hadn't thought that far ahead. It had seemed important that I reach the pilots, but now I realized that if we were under attack, they were most likely gone, taking care of the situation. What exactly was my hanging around an empty hangar in my condition going to accomplish? 

Another explosion rocked the hallway – I'd lost count of how many had hit a couple of minutes ago – and I grabbed the wall for support. That one had been closer than any of the others. Something big was happening. Screw it – I headed for the doors ahead of me, knowing that the hangar should be just beyond them. 

I shoved them open and found myself standing on what seemed to be an access walkway, running along the edge of what did appear to be a mobile suit bay. It was huge and, surprisingly, not completely empty. There were two Gundams still housed in the bay, and what looked more like a tangle of wires and scaffolding and scattered parts than a third suit. I studied the two suits, trying to make out whose they were, mentally searching through the tech manuals until I found matches. They looked like Shenlong and Sandrock. 

The nearby explosions – coming faster and with less time in between them now – echoed loudly off the walls, and I had to grab the walkway handrail in front of me to keep from being tossed to the floor again. The far doors had been opened, and through them I could see wisps of sand being tossed about by the wind; the doors opened up directly out into the desert, and sand was beginning to pile at the foot of the opening. 

I looked up, beyond the piles of sand swirling about – 

And saw the battle. 

I started – that was why the explosions were so loud and violent in here. Because they were fighting *right outside* the hangar doors.

I could see the flash of the mobile suits as they danced their intricate battle just outside the doors, not more than 30 yards from the walkway on which I was standing. I squinted, leaning out over the railing, ignoring the protests from my stiff body as the hangar continued to shake with the explosions from the nearby altercation. I could just make out the bodies of two Gundams, and a mass of what appeared to be Virgo suits, from what I could recognize from the tech manuals. I couldn't see very clearly from here, though; there was too much sand and the suits were moving too fast for me to tell from here. 

And there was another one, bigger, but it wasn't a Gundam… Its white frame glinted sharply in the sunlight, and I thought I could see a drawn beam saber in its hand… I raised one still somewhat-bandaged hand to shield my eyes from the flashes bouncing all around the hangar, partly from the sun and partly from the suits. They were so close that I could feel the heat that the flashes brought with them, and the sand was even beginning to whip up into my face as the explosions got louder. 

The battle was so loud that I didn't hear the doors open behind me, or even notice the person who'd come through them until a firm hand encircled my right shoulder in an iron grip. 

I jumped, startled, and swung my gaze around to see who had grabbed me, my other hand already balling up into a fist, as if that would do me any good. I blinked at my captor, and felt my fist go limp. It would definitely not do my any good, I thought, to hit Wufei Chang. And especially not the way he looked right now.

"What are you doing here?" he growled, his voice rising above the din of the suits just beyond the bay doors and the klaxons still just barely audible in the hallway beyond the open doors behind us. 

Without waiting for an answer, he yanked me – painfully – out of the hangar and back into the hall, slamming the doors before whirling around and dragging me off down the hall, back the way I'd come. I could feel his fingers encircling my arm like a fiery shackle, the heat from his hand seeping through the bandages there. I kept tripping as he continued briskly down the hall, his strides long and agitated, not realizing that my legs were shorter and much less apt to obey my commands. 

"Wufei… Wufei, slow down!" 

He didn't listen to my plea, only continued down the hall until he reached my open door. He swung it fully open and brought his arm around, effectively flinging me into the room. 

Only he didn't let go of my arm, and although I would've fallen his grip kept me mostly upright, and he yanked me back to my feet as he entered my room, closing – not slamming, to my surprise – the door behind him. 

It was then that he released his grip on my arm; I immediately found my other hand reaching for the spot, instinctively covering the place where his hand had just been. My skin there felt suddenly cold and a shiver ran through my entire body as I stood there, staring at him as he scowled back at me with his back to the door. 

"You were *told* to stay in here," he said, his tone harsh and biting and I winced at the sound of it. 

"I… know. I wanted to see if I could help," I said slowly, my voice soft, trying not to get him any angrier with me than he obviously already was. "I'm sorry." 

"Sorry?" 

His tone was flat, the biting edge suddenly gone and I looked up at him, almost curious as to the sudden change in his voice. 

"Y… yes. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to –" 

"Of course you meant to," he pointed out. "No one forced you to sneak out, did they?" 

I stared at him. "No." 

"Then don't say you didn't mean to." 

"All right. I won't." 

Something about him made me want to just melt into the floor – something about the way he got angry with me, or even just his *being* angry with me, made me feel… something. I couldn't name it, but it bordered on shame and worthlessness, and it made my stomach churn. I just wanted him to go away, to direct that dark gaze somewhere else, to speak to me without some form of anger or agitation in his voice, and especially not this sudden flat, emotionless tone that I remembered him suddenly using before, the last time I spoke with him. 

That had been when he'd brought me soup, and dared me to get up, put my dishes away for myself. His voice had gone toneless then, too, hollow and empty-sounding when he'd told me not to be weak. 

He didn't move, and neither did I. What was he doing? Why was he staying? He had no reason to stay – all he had to do was leave and lock the door behind him and he could be assured that I wouldn't leave again. So what was he doing? 

"Aren't you going to –" I was cut off as another explosion threw me to the floor, landing on my hands again and muttering another curse at the jolt it sent up my limbs. I looked up to see him still standing as if nothing had happened. 

I stood up and looked at him again, trying to match his sharp gaze with mine, but I crumpled under it and had to look away. 

"Aren't I going to what?" 

I looked up. 

"What?"

"Aren't I going to what?" he repeated, crossing his arms over his chest and keeping that dark-eyed gaze trained on me until I felt like it was going to cut me down. 

"Leave," I whispered. I had been about to ask him to leave. But despite that dagger-sharp gaze and angry expression that made me want to melt through the floor, something in me… Something in me didn't want him to leave. Was it because… 

He did not make me feel safe. That couldn't be it – Quatre made me feel safe. Just because Wufei had carried me out of that hellhole, just because he was the one who riled me up enough to – 

He looked at me. 

"I wanted to know if you were going to leave. You don't need to stay," I said, forcing my voice to be firmer than my roiling stomach. 

His eyes narrowed. "How do I know you won't try to escape again?"

"Lock the door behind you," I said matter-of-factly. "You know I can't get out."

He looked at me for a moment more, the silence hanging thickly between us. Actually, no. I did want him to leave. This was…. 

He walked over to the chair beside the bed – Quatre's chair – and sat down. 

I blinked at him, sitting there on the chair as calm as anything while I stood stupidly in the middle of the room, one hand still on my arm, staring at him, dumbstruck.

I just couldn't figure him out.

"No, I don't. I don't think that a simple lock on a door would keep you in here if you wanted to get out." His voice was no longer emotionless, but… I suddenly couldn't tell if he was threatening me or complimenting me. And that bothered me. 

As if he would compliment me, I reprimanded myself. 

"Why…?" 

He looked at me.   
I shook my head slightly. I didn't know if that was the right question anymore. I doubted that if he did have a reason to be here, other than his distrust, that he would tell me about it. 

"Where's Quatre?" I decided to ask, seeing as I would get no further questioning his motives.

Or was it that I didn't want to know them?

"I saw Sandrock in the hangar too, is he still here?" 

"Why do you want *him*?" Wufei asked, distaste evident in his voice. Well, I knew he didn't see eye-to-eye with Quatre on, well, most everything. At least, that's how it had seemed up until now. I could still remember his voice, cold as ever, even as I was losing my grip on reality… 

_"What the hell are you *on*, Winner – she doesn't deserve to live. Obviously even Maxwell knew that."_

"Why do I want Quatre?" I asked, blinking and shaking my head slightly, as if I could break the icy cold voice I heard in my memory and make it go away. "Why? Because he's *nice* to me, that's why. Because he *does* care if I live or die, and because he trusts me. Because he…because he doesn't make me feel so damn worthless." I stopped, my sudden burst of momentum gone as I finished, my voice so soft that I could barely hear it myself. I stared at Wufei, whose expression hadn't changed one bit, as if I hadn't said anything at all. 

Then, "I make you feel worthless? Is *that* it? And Winner doesn't?" 

I blinked at him. "Well… no. He doesn't." I couldn't believe I was having this conversation, and with Wufei of all people. My head was spinning and I couldn't make sense of my current situation. I wanted to sit down – I made my way over to my bed and dropped onto the mattress, my feet swinging over the ground.

And now the silence was back, thicker than before, and I just wanted out. But there was no way to get "out" – he wouldn't leave and I couldn't make him, and there was no way I could leave. 

*Why* was he doing this?!

"Why *don't* you just leave?" I asked, the question of his motives suddenly beginning to grate on my nerves again, the churning in my stomach becoming almost too much to bear. I didn't want to be in here with him. 

He looked at me, his face still betraying no expression. 

"Because I don't trust you." That Goddamn empty voice again. And I just couldn't take it.

"Well, thank you," I snapped, "I already knew that." 

"Well then why don't you do something about it?" he said, voice low, and suddenly he was standing in front of me, looking down as I sat on the bed through that familiar narrowed gaze. 

I looked up at him, confused and a tad more than a little scared. 

"Do something about it?" I asked, hearing my voice rise in anger despite the fear that was dancing around my stomach. I stood, my line of sight rising to his shoulders and I lifted my gaze, stared up into those cold eyes. 

"What *can* I do about it? You come in here because you say Quatre makes you, you make me feel like I shouldn't even be alive, and then you leave. What the hell can I do about *that*?" 

"You think you shouldn't be alive?"   
I blinked. Why was he asking me *that*, of all things? 

"That doesn't matter," I told him shortly. I didn't want to think about that, because the truth was… 

"What matters is that I *am* alive and I am not going to just sit here while there's a battle going on *right outside*. I'm sick of recovering and I just wanted to help. Now just go away and lock the door and –" 

"Do you think avoiding the subject is going to make things any easier?

I started and looked up at him, staring into those cold, dark eyes and wondering what the *hell* he was on - 

"What?" 

"Are you being so weak by choice?" His voice was condescending and definitely annoyed. 

Great. Same old Wufei. 

"Oh, leave me alone," I said, tired of dealing with this, tired of his presence making me feel so… so belittled. I pointed to the door, narrowing my gaze. I didn't want him in here anymore. After a moment of silence I turned and headed for the window, staring out at the whipping desert sands and pretending he wasn't in here. 

"You *are* weak, then," I heard him mutter behind my back.

I whipped suddenly around to face him, for once not looking away from his narrowed onyx gaze. 

"Is that all you care about?" I demanded. "Whether I'm weak or strong? Don't you have better things to worry about?" 

"Hmph," he muttered. "Yes, baka, I do."

"Well then worry about them instead!" I spat, turning my back on him again, looking out the window at the sun and the sand and the perfectly cloudless blue sky once more. "You know, you said you didn't care if I lived or died," I said slowly, not turning around, addressing my half-reflection in the glass before me instead of his cold eyes. "But it seems to me like you only do anything when it comes down to something like that." 

I could see his reflection in the window; his gaze narrowed further even as he calmly folded his arms across his chest. "Do I?" His tone was condescending and unnerving, riling me up like it seemed only he could do. 

"Yes," I replied curtly, turning around to face him. "You *are* the one who carried me out of that hell, whether you like it or not." I paused. "And you – you were so insistent that I *do* something with myself – "

"What?"   
"*You* dared me to get up and walk." I was nearly shouting now, fully ready to point all of this out for him, since he so obviously needed me to. "You're the one standing here now, telling me not to be weak – why don't you just kill me or leave me alone? Since you can't settle for anything in between?"

There was a heavy, cold silence in the room. I suddenly wanted to fall back, melt through the glass and become part of those swirling sand dunes outside, if it meant escape from his icy gaze here and now.

"You can be weak," he finally said, his voice low and not without a threat beneath it," or you can be strong. You choose. I am only here to see justice served, be it to you, or Maxwell, or that OZ –" 

"Why does it always come down to this?" I asked, my voice rising again and I didn't care that I'd interrupted him. "You're skirting the issue as much as I am! Weak or strong, that *is* all you care about. Is *justice* the only thing you can stand for?" 

He blinked. "Yes," he said, his voice heavy with certainty. And… something else, something that settled in the pit of my stomach and made me uneasy, shook me to the core. Something I couldn't even name. 

Silence reigned once more. 

"I don't need any of your justice," I said finally, unable to stand the silence any longer. "Go away." I narrowed my eyes, knowing it wouldn't intimidate him but I was so *angry* - 

"*Now*." 

"Listen," he said, his voice now *very* threatening and he didn't move, let alone turn and leave, "and listen well. I refuse to put up with some pathetic, weak *onna* who has nowhere to turn but Winner's charity. And you don't know a thing about *justice*." 

"Put *up* with?! Put up with – no one said you had to put up with me, *Chang*." My voice was amazingly calm; I couldn't hear anything for the anger screaming through my head.

"You're here, aren't you?" 

"Yes. I am. And I'm going to be. So. Deal. With. It." I spat, feeling my insides seethe with something far beyond anger now. I narrowed my eyes and stared at him, wishing for the power to overwhelm him. 

Of course, I had no such power. He just continued to stand there, the anger evident on his sharp features.

"I don't care what you think," I told him.

He looked up at me, dark eyes blazing cold and I couldn't read his face. 

"And you listen – I don't need to meet your approval," I went on, my words rushing out one after another, fueled by the angry fire only growing hotter inside me. "But you keep on making me feel like I do. So just stop it. If this life – if this place – isn't good enough for you then find someplace else. I wish I could say I didn't care but I do, because…" 

I stopped. Why *did* I care? I didn't know myself, and there was no point in lying to him. 

"Because I don't know," I admitted. "All I know is I do, and I shouldn't, because you're nothing but callous and even cruel to me, so I *don't* know why I care so damned much what you think." I stopped, annoyed with myself for a million different reasons. 

His cool voice broke the silence. "I thought you just said you *didn't* care what I thought." 

"I did, didn't I?" I snapped, partly out of anger towards him, partly out of anger towards myself. "Well, take your pick, I can act out either choice for you, *sir*." I pushed past him and dropped onto my bed once more.

A pause, a heavy silence.

"I don't understand you." 

I looked up. "Great. Welcome to the club." I sighed, putting my head in my hands. He was getting to me. He was… 

He was winning. And I couldn't let him win –

Not like I had almost let Duo win. But I didn't know what else to do. Maybe I *was* so weak… 

"Look, just go away. Leave me alone and let me pretend that you don't bother me." 

"Pretending will get you nowhere. It's just a lie." 

I looked up. "Do I look like I really care? You're just a lie too, Chang. A very good, very set lie that likes to spout 'justice' ten times a day. But you're a lie nonetheless. Just like Heero. You can't do anything else to get though this war. Fine, I can't blame you. But leave me out of it. I've got enough problems on my own, if you hadn't noticed." 

I glared at the wall over to my left, not wanting to look at him anymore. 

How could I preach to him about being a lie, when I was nothing but one myself…?

"I can see why you and Maxwell fell for each other in the first place," he remarked dryly, and my head snapped around as I stared at him through still-narrowed eyes. 

"What?" 

"You're both so damned good at deluding yourselves." 

"*Excuse me*?!" What was he going on about *now*?

"There's a war on, onna," he said, and his tone had suddenly sounded almost weary and beaten, although his features showed no such thing. 

"I know that," I replied shortly. He didn't have to point out the obvious, although I had noticed that he seemed to have an excellent knack for it. 

"No, you don't," he said, his condescending tone back and I could do nothing but blink at him in shock. What the hell did he mean, I didn't -?

"First off, you're too wrapped up in your own problems. And secondly, you're too busy trying to pretend things are going to be all right, when they're not," he continued, voice still firm and condescending. "You're too busy thinking things will just work out to care about what's really going on."

He stopped, and I just sat and looked at him. 

"You'll both sit there and take all the shit that gets thrown at you, and you just smile back." His voice had gotten softer, and he was no longer looking straight at me; I got the feeling that his eyes were focused on the wall behind my head, rather than on my face.

*I* didn't remember smiling back anytime recently.

He blinked and his eyes focused once more, sharp and staring into mine. "At least I don't delude myself. I don't believe I'm so high that this war can't affect anything that touches me. I'd have thought you would have learned that by now." He motioned to my scarred arms.

I felt my eyes narrow again, felt the anger churning in my stomach. *Was* he so perfect, now? And I had been trying to *help*, who was he to say I didn't care about the outcome of this war – 

"And who's having delusions of grandeur now, huh?" I spat. " 'I am here to see justice served' – justice doesn't exist. Not the kind you're talking about. The kind that *does* exist is called revenge, and you've let it suck you in. You've let it corrupt you and turn you into something less that human. Something colder. Something more like that boy out there that calls himself Heero Yuy. A perfect soldier. And a crappy human being." 

I couldn't stand to look at his face any longer, and so I chose the floor to stare at instead. 

A cold silence crept into the room, like a freezing mist creeping along the ground and swirling up until it had encompassed the whole room in its icy grip. I couldn't even hear him *breathing* over the silent static hissing in my ears. 

Until he had grabbed my shirt and physically *yanked* me off the bed – his face rushed up to mine and I couldn't even grasp what was going on for an instant – 

"*Don't*," he said, his voice low and menacing and suddenly for an instant I wondered if he *was* going to kill me, "lecture me on how to be a human being." 

Time froze. My mind froze. All I could feel was his first, holding me there, and my shock, coursing through me as if it were my blood – 

The first thing to move was my right fist, followed by my left, two punches aimed right at his face. 

I fell back on my feet as his hand disappeared – 

*Slap, slap!*

He stood, one palm on either side of his face, my punches perfectly blocked, and looked down at me with those onyx eyes. But there was something different sparkling in that gaze – not annoyance, or even anger, as I had been expecting. 

What the *hell* had I just done – 

He said nothing as his hands dropped to his sides; my fists dropped with them. I thought his eyes were going to kill me. 

"I'm… I'm sorry – I didn't mean –" I stammered, knowing it wouldn't do any good but I didn't know what else I *could* do, short of running…

"What did I tell you," he said, his voice and his eyes hollow again and I wanted to die, "about apologizing?" 

I didn't hear the door close as he left.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: Gee, guess what

Disclaimer: Gee, guess what? I don't own them! ;)

AN: Ahhh! Sorry I haven't posted – I thought fanfiction.net was still out or something…. anyways…. My gosh, this *is* getting long. Eep! But there is an end. And we're getting to it!

Walking The Dividing Line

Part 16

The door flew open to allow Heero Yuy to enter. 

I didn't know how long it had been. It could have been ten minutes or it could have been ten hours. I was still standing there, lost in thought – lost in *something* – as he grabbed my arm and I was physically dragged out into the hall for the second time today. 

My mind snapped back into the present. *Now* what was going on?!

I found my voice. "…Heero, what's going on? Weren't you just out there –" 

"Yes." And he kept dragging me along, down the hall, his hand cool over the spot where, incidentally, Wufei had grabbed me to drag me back to my room. 

He dragged me deeper into the complex, down countless halls and down two flights of stairs until we reached the other pilots. I blinked; they were all standing outside a grey, windowless door with a computerized lock on it, flashing green.

Well, all of them except for Duo. 

I looked at Trowa, leaning in his usual manner against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and wondered if he hadn't just been fighting as well. Quatre was standing there looking worried, his mouth tight as he looked at me. Wufei was leaning against the other wall, also with his arms crossed and wearing his usual scowl; he didn't even acknowledge my presence.

Heero stopped, but his grip didn't loosen as he stood there in the hall, looking at the other pilots. 

"Here she is," he said flatly. "Now let's decide what to do with her." 

I blinked – what?

"Hey, wait a sec – what's going on?" I demanded; Quatre looked up at me, his eyes sparkling with some hidden emotion, and I didn't like the look on his face. 

"Zechs has offered to make us a deal," Trowa said calmly, looking up from beneath his bangs, his visible green eye sparkling in the overhead lights. "OZ doesn't want us, or you – they want Giniko back." 

"Or so they claim," Wufei said sourly, looking up from the spot on the floor at which he'd been staring this whole time. But he didn't look at me. "I don't trust them." 

"Neither do I," Heero said curtly. 

"What other choice do we have?" Quatre asked, a twinge of desperation coloring the edge of his voice. "Listen – why don't we just tell her the whole story?" 

"What whole story?" I asked, as Wufei shot an angry look towards Quatre, still ignoring the fact that I was even there. Quatre ignored Wufei's stare and went on. 

"Zechs says you're as good as dead to OZ," Quatre said, looking at me. "Like Trowa said, he offered us a deal – that he would go back and tell his superiors that you *were* dead. He would leave you here in return for Giniko. And he would give us time to leave." 

"But we'd have to give him Giniko," Wufei confirmed; something in his voice indicated that he did not want to do that.

I looked from pilot to pilot, confused. What were they thinking? Why had they dragged me out here – I honestly didn't think it was for my opinion on the matter.

Was it?

"Well," I said, turning to look at Heero, who was staring impassively at a point in the center of the group, "what did you need me for?"

Heero looked up at me, and something in those cold blue eyes told me, 'To trade.' He said nothing out loud, however. 

Then his eyes flashed with something else – something softer behind that gaze. Like he was… like he had been faced with a decision and he didn't know what to do about it yet.

I shuddered involuntarily; I knew Heero must have felt it, his hand still a cool shackle on my arm, but his demeanor didn't change in the least. His eyes had gone back to being just cold and hard.

There was silence for a moment more, before Heero spoke. It was not an answer to my question, however. 

"I think we should take care of Giniko ourselves," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm not willing to just give her back to OZ. She's more use to us than *she* is," he said, shooting a look at me before going on, "and I don't trust OZ to keep their promise." 

"But we're going to have to leave anyway," Quatre put in, looking from me to Heero. "They already know where we are; and I think it's better to let Giniko's own people deal with her. What are you planning on doing – torturing her for more information and then killing her?" His voice rose as he spoke, and those last few words had sounded frantic.

"Hn," Heero replied, neither a conformation nor a dismissal.

"I honestly don't know what the best action to take here is," Trowa said slowly, his voice sounding resigned. "I do think it would be better to get rid of her now, and not risk her involvement in future plans against us. But you already have what you need to know from her; she hasn't told you anything more." 

"Maybe we haven't been trying hard enough," Wufei said lowly. "In any case, we can't let what she's done go unpunished. I don't trust that her own people will take care of that. The only way to see justice served is to do it ourselves. I don't trust OZ to give us time to leave, either. Why would Zechs even offer to do that?" 

"He didn't seem to agree completely with OZ's ideals," Trowa said softly. 

Heero shrugged. "I don't care what he thinks. I still don't trust him." 

"So we're back where we began," Trowa said softly. He looked up at me now. "What do you think, Alison?" 

I blinked. He was *asking* my opinion? 

And more importantly than that, what *did* I think? 

"I think…" I said slowly, aware of the four pairs of eyes now trained solely on me as I spoke, "that…" I paused. 

I really didn't know what I thought. All I knew was that I didn't want to be near Giniko – that I didn't want to think about her or OZ. I would rather let her own people deal with her, if it would get her away from me and out of my life – and my mind – that much sooner. Nothing I could do would undo what she had done, nothing would ever fix what she had broken. It was pointless to believe otherwise. 

I just wanted her to go away.

"You don't know what you think, do you?" Wufei snapped, interrupting my thoughts and I looked up to meet his dark gaze. He pushed himself off the wall, standing up straight, arms still crossed in front of his chest. At least he was looking at me – 

"It's pointless to ask you because you're –" 

"It is *not* pointless to ask me," I put in, forcefully. I looked up at Trowa. "In fact, I greatly appreciate it. And what I *do* think is that the sooner we get her out of here – the sooner we get rid of her influence, of OZ's influence and you guys start *trusting* each other again – the sooner that happens, well, the better.

"I know I don't want her in my life anymore," I said, almost too softly for myself to hear; I didn't know if anyone else had. My gaze had fallen to the ground. 

"She's not the only OZ influence here."

My head shot up, glaring at Wufei. "I am *not* a part of OZ." I told him. "Maybe I was, but I can't remember that. And regardless of anything, I trust you people. Half of you want me dead," my gaze swung to Heero before settling back on Wufei, "and I *trust* you. Because I think you're doing the right thing, and because I think OZ has no place controlling the Earth-sphere or the colonies. But I guess I just really am stupid."

Silence fell, thick and sharp, after my words had ended. I turned away from Wufei, not wanting to look at him any more, glancing at Heero; that softer, less decisive look had returned, and he suddenly turned to look at me. 

He sighed, and suddenly his hand was gone. I looked at him, stunned, wondering why he had released me. What was going on?

"Zero told me something. While we were fighting," he said slowly. Quatre looked at him, his gaze questioning; Trowa and Wufei also looked at the brown-haired pilot, curiosity visible in their gazes as well. 

Zero… The Zero System? There hadn't been much in Quatre's specs about it at all – the most I had been able to discern was that it was some type of system that affected the pilot, that drew battle lines for him in order to improve performance – 

"Zero claims that she is not our enemy," he said, sweeping a hand quickly at me before dropping it again; his words were almost rushed, like someone who didn't quite want to believe what they were saying, but knew they had to say it nonetheless.

Wufei's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. 

"Go on," Trowa prompted softly.

"Zero kept telling me that Giniko was our enemy. That Alison and Duo are not." 

"And you trust Zero?" Wufei asked, slight disdain in his tone, but something else there as well, and it wasn't as harsh.

"I don't know whether or not to trust Zero," Heero said darkly. "But I do know one way to find out." He turned to me, and drew his gun. "Kill her," he offered once more.

I blinked at him. This again? Didn't he know -?!

"Heero – I can't." 

"And why not? If you really despise OZ as much as you say you do – if you really hate Giniko as much as you should – then *kill* her." 

"I *can't*, Heero," I repeated. "Listen – I hate her. She… killed Duo, or at least the Duo I think I knew, and she's obviously tearing the five – four – of you apart. Look at you guys – you can't work like this. You know that as much as I do. But –

"But taking her life isn't going to bring Duo back," I said softly. "Killing her won't undo what she's done. Nothing can. And I know that. Don't," I pleaded. "Please, don't make me kill her."

Wufei glanced at me again, with something almost like… disappointment in those dark eyes of his. It made my stomach churn, to have him look at me like that, and so I looked down at the floor, at my feet instead.

"Duo's fine," Heero said flatly. "And if you won't kill her, then why should I trust you, no matter what Zero says?" 

"I know that you won't believe me until I prove myself," I told him. "But I won't kill her. I won't kill *anyone*. I'm sorry. I can't do it; find some other way for me to prove myself to you." 

Heero paused for the briefest of instants. "Well, Giniko is my enemy. I know that. And I kill my enemies." 

And Heero shoved past Trowa, hitting the panel beside the door. It flashed red and beeped once before the door slid open, revealing – 

Revealing Giniko sitting in the middle of the floor, looking pleased with herself. I shook my head slightly; when had she ever looked anything but?

But then the fear struck – I could feel my heart speed up, pounding in my chest, and I could feel my stomach drop and my hands curl into fists. I could hear the static screaming in my head, and I closed my eyes to it, willing it to go away because I couldn't *do* this, not now – 

I heard scuffling; I opened my eyes to see Heero holding Giniko, her arms pinned behind her, held there with his left hand. His right hand held his gun to her head, but despite that fact her face showed no fear. 

I blinked at her, unable to move, barely able to breathe. My fists only clenched tighter on themselves, until it felt like my bandages would split and my hands would crush themselves from the pressure. 

All I could do was stare back at her, fear and anger swirling through my head and swimming in my stomach. 

She laughed as Heero held her there. "Going to kill me?" 

"Heero –" Quatre said weakly; I could tell he didn't want to see him kill her, and somehow I didn't blame him. Trowa stood there, staring at Heero with a calm but definitely not passive gaze. Wufei looked almost amused, his sharp gaze watching Heero's trigger finger intently. 

"And you," Heero said, mouth close to her ear, voice low and menacing, "What should we do with you?" 

"Hm," Giniko murmured, turning her gaze so that it caught mine – I felt like she was tearing something out of me with that look. "Having trouble deciding, are we? What does *she* say?" She indicated me with a nod of her head, and the anger only rose hotter in my gut. 

"What she says doesn't matter," Heero growled into her ear, pressing the barrel of his gun harder into her temple. 

Giniko only smiled wider. "Well then," she said slowly, "God knows you don't need both of us. One whore is enough, don't you think?" 

I blinked – I could feel the heat rising in my face, and the anger rising past the fear, running like fire through my blood. How dare she – how *dare* she call me a –

"And here I thought you'd hate her more than me, now," she was still talking. "I mean, come on, look at what she's done to you all. Look at how you can't trust her – you can't turn your back for a second on that one." And she smiled her icy smile, and suddenly I wanted to wipe it right off her face.

"She is not the topic here," Wufei said curtly, walking towards the doorway and stopping just outside it, blocking Giniko from my view so that all I could see was half of Heero and Wufei's back. 

"Oh, but isn't she always? And I see she's gotten herself a new boy, hasn't she?" She craned her neck to look around Wufei's form and smiled up at me. "You're fast, aren't you?"

I felt like I was going to explode. Right then and there.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: Still not mine… sigh

Disclaimer: Still not mine… sigh

AN: Again, sorry for taking so long! More soon I promise! And I'm working on a 4th story… if anyone cares, that is… ;O

Walking The Dividing Line

Part 17

"Shut up," Wufei said bluntly, and before I could blink he'd reached out and slapped her – at least, that was my best guess, as the sharp sound rang through the air and her face slammed to the side, out of view once more.

Quatre winced and glanced up at Trowa. 

"Heero," Trowa said, but made no move. I saw Heero glance up at Trowa. 

"We either take care of this now, or we take care of it later. But I'm not handing her back to OZ."

"You still want to kill me, don't you, Yuy?" I heard her cold voice from behind Wufei; Heero's face was tight but did not change. "You never said – does *Alison* think you should kill me?" 

Yes – yes I did – 

I wanted her gone. Out of my life. Her death would certainly do that. As I looked at Heero, still holding the gun to her head, I realized that all I felt was the hot, seething anger she'd prompted racing through me.

I wondered suddenly if I *couldn't* kill her. Maybe Heero was right – 

That scared me.

"That is none of your concern," I heard Heero tell her, his voice low and even his anger was beginning to show. She could do that, I thought. She could bring out the anger in anyone, she was *so* – 

"You think I'm going to tell you anything else?" Giniko suddenly asked, her voice full of disdain and half-crazed anger. "Why *should* I? If you're not going to let me go then I'm not going to tell you anything –"

"Then I'm going to kill you, right here," Heero growled. 

"Do it," she dared him. "Go on – I'm not afraid of death; he's quite the lover. Almost better than your friend." 

I heard him cock his gun.

What the *hell* had she meant by that?! I could remember Duo hanging over her, manipulated to the point where he didn't do anything unless she told him to do it first. Somehow, despite the fact that recalling Duo's face only brought a cold sort of anger with it, she was only making me angrier now. 

But apparently she'd hit something in Heero as well. His face clearly showed his anger now. Wufei took a step forward, walking into the room and my line of sight was clear – I could see Heero holding Giniko, her hands still behind her, gun still to her temple.

"Do it, Yuy," she hissed again. "Or are you afraid?" 

Quicker than I could follow, the hand pinning her wrists moved to her neck, grabbing her almost as if to choke her even as the barrel of his gun pressed harder into her pale skin.

But now her hands were free – 

In a flash she had grabbed the arm encircling her neck, digging her nails in and taking advantage of Heero's momentary surprise to fling his hold off. Before he could move she swung a roundhouse kick aimed at his hand – the gun clattered away and hit the wall of the room, a metallic *clang* resounding throughout the room. 

This was bad – this was so bad, if she got free – 

Heero regained his senses, however, and delivered a punch of his own to her midsection, throwing her backwards towards the door. She stopped; Wufei took a step forward but suddenly she turned and grinned at me. 

I froze. For all the anger seething through my veins, I could do nothing as her pale arms suddenly grabbed me, one arm wrapped firmly around my waist, pinning my arms to my sides; the other snaked around my head, her lithe fingers pressing against my face, her hand covering my cheek and ready to snap my neck in one quick motion – 

"Now," she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice, "let's talk."

I looked up to see that Heero had retrieved his gun, now he slowly raised it, leveling it with Giniko's head. The anger still shone brightly on his face; it did now on Wufei's as well, as he stood beside Heero, glaring at Giniko, dark eyes as sharp as daggers, arms close to his sides and hands balled into fists. I couldn't see Trowa or Quatre, standing behind me, but I couldn't hear any movement from them either. 

"Looks like you boys have a choice to make," she said smoothly; the arm around my middle pulled me tighter against her body, yanking against my broken ribs and suddenly I saw red spots. My mind reeled for a moment before coming back to rest in the seemingly too-bright hallway, with her arms still around me and her hand still on my face. 

"You still seem to like this one." 

I was not going to take this. I was *not* going to let this happen again. Not when I had only just begun all over again, when I had only just maybe had a chance to stay here, with them – 

No. 

Above me, Giniko was still speaking. "Which one of us, eh? Or maybe it's all or nothing – don't give me that look, Yuy, you know I could snap her neck before you could shoot me." 

"Bitch," Wufei spat. "Are you so afraid to die alone?"

"I told you," she said calmly, "I'm not afraid of death. But maybe *she* still is…" 

She yanked on my midsection again, causing not only more pain but forcing the air out of my lungs; I gasped and I couldn't even think let alone *do* something about this, and the anger only surged hotter – 

"Liar," I heard Wufei say above me. "You're a damned liar – you *are* afraid of death."

If I had been thinking clearly at all, I might have wondered why he sounded so angry – 

"Shut *up*." The hand on my face suddenly yanked, hard, and my head was snapped to the side. Not hard enough to break my neck, but she held it there, painfully extended, and all it would take now was the slightest twitch of her fingers – 

"Now," she said, craning her face downwards until I could feel her breath dancing along my ear, along my cheek, "give me what I want and you can have your little whore back." 

The red was welling up before my eyes, but I didn't know whether it was from pain or anger. Or both. But I was not – I *could* not – stand for this – 

"And what the hell do you want?" Heero asked lowly, the gun never wavering, still trained on her head. Wufei's eyes narrowed until they became only two dark slits in his pale face, features contorted with anger just as Heero's had become.

"Just my freedom," she said, as if she were asking for something much simpler. "And my Duo." 

Heero blinked. 

"Oh, come on," she said lowly, pressing her cheek to my temple, "You know he's mine. Just like she is. She's mine, too – her life is mine, I've already killed her once. All I have to do is move, and I'll be sure to make it more permanent this time." 

She paused. 

"You belong to *me*," she whispered, breath hot on my ear and that was it.

That was it. That was it that was it that was *it* – 

"NO!" I screamed, losing it all in one burst of rage – all I could feel were her insidious arms around me, and all I knew was that I didn't want them there. I didn't want my life in her hands, I didn't want to see her or think about her or even possess the knowledge that she existed. 

I wanted her to die. 

All the anger and betrayal welled up and in one instant I had slammed my elbows as hard as I possibly could back into her ribcage, a desperate attempt to get her to loosen her hold. 

It worked. 

She gasped and fell back, her nails scraping along my face, tearing the bandages off my cheek and raking across the scars beneath as she stumbled backwards and I fell forwards onto my hands and knees. 

"Alison!" I heard Quatre scream from somewhere behind me. 

Then I heard the gunshot. 

I felt something warm and liquid travel down my cheek; I saw the blood drip onto the metal grating beneath my hands and felt warm hands on my arms. 

I looked up to see Quatre squatting before me, eyes full of both hope and fear and features colored with pain. 

"Alison?" 

He helped me up, pulling me to my feet and I didn't resist. 

It was over, my mind echoed. It was over, she was dead, it was *over* – 

Above me, Trowa sighed. "We'd better tell Zechs we're going to have to refuse his offer. And then we need to move out." 

I looked up; past Quatre's shoulder I could see Heero lower his gun, staring behind us, eyes colder than ice. Past him I could see Wufei, hands still balled into fists, just raising his gaze from the floor to look at me – 

"Alison, come on," the blonde said, taking my hand and leading me away from it all, away from Wufei's dark gaze and Heero's gun, away from the hallway and away from Giniko. 

I followed him, my head seemingly devoid of anything but cold. I couldn't think anymore, couldn't feel anymore. Suddenly I just didn't have anything left. 


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own them

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own them. Although the imaginary ones living in my room…. Well, minor detail. ;)

Walking The Dividing Line

Part 18

"All right, it looks like that's all I can do for you then," Sally said, peeling off the last of the bandages from my arms and closing her med kit. "Now make *sure* you check those bandages every two days," she said, indicating the crisp white bandages that still lined my middle, holding my healing ribs in place. "And not too much physical exertion, if you can manage that." She gave me a small smile. 

"Thanks," I said, sliding off the bed, looking up at her. "You've done a lot for me, I know. I really can't thank you enough –" 

She shook her head slightly, silencing me. "It's what I do," she said softly. "I try to help these boys out whenever I can – I think they're very important, and I know you think that too." 

I nodded. I did. And I wanted to be a part of that – anything I could do to stop OZ from treating people the way they did… 

"Take care of yourself," she said, and then turned and left. I watched her go, and I watched Quatre enter as she left, looking at me with those big green eyes. 

"Are you ready?" he asked. 

I nodded and grabbed the backpack with the tech manuals. I didn't have anything else. "Yeah."   
I followed him out into the hall and down barely-familiar hallways until we reached the hangar. Instead of suits lining the walls, as they had before, there was only a massive mobile suit carrier. I knew that it housed Sandrock, Heavyarms, and Shenlong; Heero had taken a separate carrier and left a few hours ago, carrying not only himself and Wing, but Duo and what was left of Deathscythe. 

I followed Quatre down the metal ladder off the walkway, descending into the hangar itself. I realized that the hangar was actually quite crowded – there were multiple suits housed beneath the walkway, and there were men rushing all over the place, packing up supplies and weapons. It looked like they were moving out too. 

"Everyone's got to leave now that OZ definitely knows this location," Quatre explained, leading me over to the mobile suit carrier. We climbed up into the cockpit; I looked up to see that Wufei and Trowa were already sitting there. Trowa was in the pilot's seat, running what looked like some last-minute checks. Wufei was seated off to the side, looking bored. He eyed me warily as I followed Quatre in, but said nothing and turned away after only a few seconds. Quatre sat beside Trowa and I took a seat nearer the back of the cockpit, out of the way.

Trowa looked up at Quatre. "Ready?"   
The blonde nodded and Trowa began initiating the launch procedures, shutting the outside door and maneuvering the huge carrier out of the hangar and into the wildly whipping desert sands, his hands dancing deftly across the panels before him. The sand was actually whipping up quite a storm outside; I watched it swirl and snap about as we took off, the tan earth falling farther and farther below us. The sun was actually just coming up over the horizon – it was barely five in the morning. The pilots had all agreed that leaving, and leaving *now*, was the best course of action. 

My mind wandered back over the events of the past few hours. Quatre had brought me back to my room; he'd sat there with me for I didn't even know how long, until Heero had come and said that we were leaving, and that I was coming with. I could still see his face, see his blue eyes, and the ice that still coated them… 

But the ice hadn't been as thick, and the anger had left his face, and those words of his, when he'd said, "And she's coming with," still rung in my ears, somehow warm and welcome. 

And then Sally had come in, to do what she could before she left; I glanced down at my arms, where all the bandages had been removed. The pale skin there was still criss-crossed with white scars, a reminder of that nightmare which was still not quite over. 

Giniko might be dead, but Duo… 

Well, like everyone kept telling me, he *wasn't* dead. At least not physically. But I didn't know if the Duo I had known had come back. I didn't know that I wanted to find out. 

I continued staring out the window, watching the patches of tan earth turn brown, and then green. I didn't even know where we were headed. It didn't matter, somehow, as long as I was with the pilots. As divided as they had been, and as testy as they had been with me, I still felt somehow safe with them. 

I was beginning to get drowsy; my head began nodding, hitting the glass window beside me periodically until I gave in and just rested my forehead on the cool surface, holding my backpack in my lap and lazily watching the ground rush by below us. Quatre and Trowa were talking, their words a jumbled buzz in the background. Slowly the noise began to drift away, fading into silence and sleep… 

***

"Aly?" 

"Hm." Someone was trying to drag me up out of the warm darkness, and I didn't want to leave. I felt warm hands, familiar, on my shoulders. 

"Aly, come on, it's time to wake up." 

Wait. I knew that voice. 

My eyes flew open to stare into two large blue ones, long chestnut bangs falling into his face – 

I wrenched myself out of his grasp, curling up tighter on the seat; the backpack fell off my lap and thudded onto the deckplates. 

"Don't touch me." 

He blinked, staring first at his hands and then back up at me. There was immense pain mirrored in that face, but all I could think about was how good he was at faking it. My heart was pounding again, my mind screaming, my hands gripping the seat of my chair until I thought they might dig into the metal itself. 

I stared at him with wide eyes, wishing that he would just go away and leave me alone. He'd done enough already, I wasn't ready to deal with this yet – 

"Aly, come on," he said, backing away and standing up, pacing in front of me with one slender hand buried in his bangs; his braid whipped about his knees as he walked. "You gotta stop this, you know it's silly. I'm not gonna hurt you," he said, stopping and looking down at me, his hand falling to his side as his eyes bore into mine, desperately seeking… something. 

I stared up at him, a thousand thoughts racing through my mind. A hundred of them involved escape plans; another hundred involved death while a third hundred involved screaming. 

A few of them involved standing up and beating the bastard senseless for what he'd done. 

No. I had to get control of this. I wrenched the sudden, unmitigated surge of terror down, locking it firmly beneath the next most accessible emotion: anger. 

That cold, empty anger that I couldn't get rid of. 

"Get away from me," I said slowly, trying for all I was worth to sound more angry than afraid. 

He blinked. "*Why*?" he implored, his voice as desperate as his eyes, but he couldn't fool me. "You said that before – *why* don't you want me near you?" 

"You know why," I spat at him, "You know very well why I don't want you near me."

"No, Aly, I don't," he said, impatience rising in his voice now, causing the fear to rise in my stomach but I shoved it down and hid it beneath the ice-cold anger that was easier to feel. 

"I *don't* know," he repeated, palms open at his side as he went on. "The only thing I *do* know is that they won't let me see you, and I don't know why. I don't know why they won't let me help you, when you've been…" 

"I don't need any more of your 'help'," I said lowly; I didn't know what he was getting at but I didn't like it one bit. Playing innocent was not going to work on me. 

He flinched. "*Aly*. Please –" 

"Go away," I told him again, and my eyes were stinging with hot tears that I could hear in my voice as well – why didn't he understand that all I wanted him to do now was just go away and leave me alone because I couldn't *do* this anymore -? 

"What did I do?" he asked softly, blue eyes boring into mine. "Please, just tell me that." 

"She killed you," I said softly, suddenly unable to look him in the face anymore, instead choosing to stare at the floor. "She killed you and then you tried to kill me." I looked up at him, stared him straight in the face. "Don't you remember, *Duo-chan*?" I stood, the anger rising within me as I did so, and held out my arms, spread my palms and tilted my face so that he could see more clearly the criss-crossed scars he'd painted on my cheek. "*You* did this to me," I said, looking at him. 

His eyes went wide and his mouth tightened. He stood there like a statue, just staring at me, for once at a loss for words. 

"I… Oh God… I…" His hands covered his face as he backed away from me, murmuring to himself. I dropped my own arms, just watching him, something else beginning to writhe in the pit of my stomach, a bleak, uneasy and terrible feeling. 

How could he not remember… 

*I* remembered. And I remembered that night, I remembered his touch when he'd placed his palm against my swollen cheek. A perfect fit. 

How could he not remember *this*?

He looked up at me. "Aly… I had no idea…" The pain in his face was beyond imagining, as he stood there and looked at me with those liquid blue eyes. The cold anger was beginning to seep out of me, the rage losing a bit of its edge. I shuddered. 

"I couldn't remember what she did to me," he said softly, slowly, still watching me from across the cockpit. "The others wouldn't tell me – they wouldn't tell me why I couldn't see you. It's because…" 

"I didn't want to see you." 

"But – but I can't even *remember* it! It's not like I would willingly do that to you!" There was anger edging his voice, egging the fear in me on. 

"Yes, it is," I said softly, as he watched me, eyes still wide and residual anger coloring his features. "You did this willingly enough, Duo." 

"I… I…" 

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling the saltwater suddenly spilling down my face, stinging the cuts that Giniko herself had made not that long ago. "I can't, Duo. I can't –" 

"It's not my fault!" he exclaimed, suddenly looking desperate again, taking a few steps toward me. "You've got to believe me, Aly, I would *never* -" 

"Stop it!" I cried, the fear suddenly lashing out again as I realized that he'd backed me against the wall in his desperation, and I didn't want him any closer. I could feel my body wanting to cringe away at his proximity already – 

He started, looked at me again. "Aly, please. Can't we just –" 

"No!" I told him. "No, Duo, it's over! I can't – just please, stop it!" The saline was falling faster now, and he was still coming closer. 

"Aly –"   
"No –!"

*Whap!*

I realized that I'd just… I'd just punched him. He stood there, wide-eyed, staring at me though the silence that had descended, although I was still aware of my own ragged breathing and racing heartbeat.

He looked at my hand, then grabbed it is his own, long fingers enclosing mine- 

I didn't want him *touching* me – 

"Let go of me!" 

*Whap!*

I'd punched his arm, causing him to release my hand in shock. 

"Leave me alone," I pleaded. "It's not going to work anymore." 

Duo just stared at me, refusing to move. 

"*Maxwell!* That's enough!" 

He jumped and swung his head around to see Wufei standing in the doorway, dark eyes unreadable from here. 

My stomach dropped, but I couldn't think anymore as I collapsed onto the floor, watching my tears drip onto the deck.

"She doesn't want to see you, baka," Wufei said smoothly, climbing up through the door and striding over to us. 

Duo just looked at Wufei, his face equally blank and unreadable, but somehow his features were more empty than Wufei's. 

Somehow I was more afraid of him that I was of Wufei. And somehow all I could feel was relief and detachment as I watched Duo's feet turn and disappear from sight, his footsteps echoing throughout the cockpit. 

"Get up, onna," Wufei commanded; his voice wasn't harsh and biting, though, not the heavy, sharp blade that I had been expecting. 

I stood and looked at him.

"Stop crying."   
I ran the back of my hand over my face, wiping away the saline. Something about him always made me so ashamed that I had cried. His eyes were dark but not sharp, the same as his voice and I didn't know *what* he was thinking. 

"I'm sorry," I said, and began walking towards the door. 

"Don't apologize, either," was the last thing I heard as I climbed out of the cockpit and into the hangar. "I've told you that before."


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own them, although I would not be so opposed… ;) 

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own them, although I would not be so opposed… ;) 

AN: Look! An extra long part! That's the *END*!!!!!! 

In a way…. g

Walking The Dividing Line

Part 19

Then I saw Quatre running towards me, his face tight and frightened as he stopped before me, taking me in. 

"Alison! Are you all right?" 

I sighed. "I'm fine, Quatre. I'm sorry I fell asleep." 

He looked at me, the ghost of a weak smile coloring his lips. "It's all right, I figured you could use the sleep." 

I nodded. He made no mention of Duo; I couldn't see him anywhere, now that I looked around, and I wasn't going to bring it up. I looked around, seeing that we were in another hangar, only this one was smaller than the previous one. The other mobile suit carrier was off to my left about 20 yards, its bay doors open to reveal the Gundams inside. 

I didn't feel like asking where we were. I didn't feel like asking where anyone else was. And despite the fact that I had just slept, I was immensely tired. 

"Can I… can you show me somewhere I can sleep?" I asked softly. 

Quatre perked up at that, some of the worry draining from his features. "Of course!" he exclaimed, turning and leading me out of the bay and down countless hallways, all looking a lot like the ones in the previous base. 

But then he ascended a flight of stairs, and opened a wooden door – 

And sunlight spilled through; I blinked as I followed him up into what appeared to be a kitchen, in a perfectly normal-looking house. The countertops were clean and white and sparkling in the afternoon sunlight slanting in through the windows above the sink. 

"Welcome to our new home," Quatre said, smiling a little wider now, as he led me through the kitchen, out into a foyer and up a flight of stairs. There was one hallway upstairs, with a bathroom to the right and rooms off to the left. I followed him to the end of the hall, counting three rooms on the way. He led me into the third, where a neatly-made bed sat beneath a large window, across from a simple set of drawers and a mirror. 

"Here," he said, motioning to the bed. "This is your room. Why don't you get some real sleep, all right? You saw where the kitchen was, you can get something to eat when you wake up." 

I nodded slowly, and sat on the bed. 

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked, looking down at me through his bangs, the worry still there behind his gaze. "I can stay if you'd like." 

I shook my head. He had better things to do, and I knew it. I didn't need him to stay with me. I could take care of myself. 

Right? 

"No, I'll be fine." 

"All right. I'll see you later," he said softly, and left, closing the door behind him. 

I flopped back onto the bed, letting all the emotions and thoughts spill out of me as I stared at the white ceiling above me. 

I didn't want to think about Duo. I didn't want to think about anything but sleeping… 

But sleep would not come. I tossed and turned for what felt like hours; the sunlight was slanting steeper through the window when I finally sat up, resigned to the fact that although I was desperately exhausted, I could not sleep. I wasn't hungry, though, and I didn't want to risk going downstairs because I might… 

Because I might run into Duo. 

I sighed. This had to end. I couldn't do this forever. But there was something inside me that wanted to cringe away in fear at the sight of him, and there was something else that tended to coat everything else with that cool, empty anger. 

I had to get over that. There was no way they were going to let me stay if I didn't. 

But… how could I just *stop* being afraid of him? 

I sighed again, flopping back onto the mattress, lying on my side and staring at the door. 

I had to make Duo realize that it was over. I just couldn't… I couldn't do it again, I couldn't give him a second chance. I could probably learn to live with him, train myself not to be so afraid. I knew I could do that – mind over matter, that was all it was. But… I couldn't trust him so implicitly.

I couldn't let him touch me. 

I shuddered, and sighed.

I turned over and watched the sun set behind the trees; wherever we were, it was thickly wooded and the sunset was beautiful from here, painting the sky with fire as I watched it disappear and give way to the pale moonlight that took its place. I stood, walking over to the window and gazing out over the trees before craning my neck upwards to look at the sky above, a deep velvet dome sparkling with diamond stars. The milky way painted a bright white splash right down the middle; I sighed, suddenly realizing just how lucky I was to be alive to see it. 

I owed Quatre a lot, I thought. The little blonde was very likely the only reason I *was* still standing here. He had been the one to insist on my rescue, to stay with me and he was essentially responsible for my physical recovery. And for more than some of my mental recovery. 

I realized I was smiling, a small, thankful smile at the thought of all that Quatre had done for me. And I wasn't going to throw it away – not when even Heero, even Wufei seemed to be willing to allow me to stay. I would get over my fear, if it took me a day or a week or a month or a year, because I wanted to help these boys do what it was they did to make their difference in the world. Sally was right – they *were* important, and they *were* doing the right thing. And it was all I could do to hope that they would let me help them. 

The night passed slowly. I split my time between lying on the bed, half-asleep but never fully gone, and staring out the window as the constellations slowly marched above the sky, disappearing one by one behind the treeline until the pink wisps of the impending sunrise began to pale the velvet blackness in the east. 

I didn't know what time it was – it was late summer, so the sunrise was still early but I didn't know when exactly. All I knew was that I was still exhausted when there was a curt knock at the door, causing me to jump. 

I turned, heart still pounding at the surprise, and called, "Come in." 

The door opened to reveal Wufei, carrying my backpack in one hand and what looked like a bundle of clothing in the other. His features were colored with his old annoyance, and I nearly broke out into a grin to see that. At least I knew what to expect of him, if he was back to scowling at me. 

He had almost frightened me before, with that emptier look and those hollow words, despite their lack of sharpness. 

"What is it?" 

He dropped the backpack a foot or so inside the door. "There's a lot of equipment in the hangar that needs repair work," he said curtly. 

He tossed the bundle at me; I caught it in my hands, the faded blue cloth soft against my raw skin. 

"Make yourself useful. Winner is waiting downstairs." 

And he turned and left, closing the door behind him. 

I blinked down at the cloth in my hands, and then shook it out to realize that he'd tossed me a mechanic's jumpsuit. 

Something inside my stomach fluttered – fear, or something else. 

I got dressed and went downstairs.

***

And that's how it was. Day in, day out, I did nothing but work with the battered old equipment in the mobile suit bay. Most of it was simple enough – after studying nothing but suit schematics, however, the work was slow. But somehow I seemed to have a knack for it, and after enough tinkering around I could usually get whatever piece of equipment I had set my sights on to work. 

It was an excellent learning experience: there were all sorts of machines, from scattered suit and weapon parts to a few old jeeps and radios, not to mention other communications and stealth equipment, some of which I couldn't even figure out the purpose of. 

So there I worked, in the back corner of the bay with an assortment of tools and piles of old equipment, while the pilots diligently worked on their suits, upgrading them or repairing them as needed. I knew none of them would even think of letting me near their Gundams – well, perhaps Quatre would, and maybe even Trowa, and somewhere in the pit of my stomach I was uneasily sure that Duo would as well. But for the time being I was kept busy enough repairing most of the radio and monitoring devices so the pilots could use them.

Things had almost settled down into a regular routine, and I was doing my best to forget the nightmare of before and concentrate on the present. Heero was indifferent to me now, not hostile but not open either. He would come up to me, gruffly list off the parts he needed, and wait while I dug them out for him. It was a strange kind of relationship, but I was thankful for it. 

Duo kept his distance, and I was actually thankful for that as well. Whenever I saw him around, he would just fall silent and look away – I could tell he was hurting, but there was nothing I could do for him. In fact, it was all I could do to wrestle down the fear and anger whenever I saw him. But time had weakened the fear, and the only thing I could do was to concentrate on forgiving him for something I knew he hadn't really meant to do, deep down. I was beginning to believe maybe I *could* forgive him.But things would never be the same. 

Even Heero and Wufei tended to keep him at a distance, I'd noticed. I'd seen how the pilots had been completely ripped apart by this mess, and it hurt deeply to know that I had somehow been a part of it. But as I watched, things were very slowly being patched over, and that hope gave me the ability to slowly be able to look Duo in the face. To feel anything other than cold, choking fear when I did so. 

Trowa and Quatre were much more open with me, and Quatre had even spent a few days tinkering down here with me, showing me how some of the more complicated equipment worked. He was just as supportive as ever, and he was the only one that really spent time with me when he wasn't forced to by the close proximity of the hangar. Not that there was much to do aside from work – the pilots had been running routine missions, adding to the pattern of work that we all seemed to have fallen into. This resulted in a lot of mobile suit work, as well as a lot of odd hours and not much "down time." 

Wufei was pretty much the same as Heero – vaguely indifferent to me, but somehow he tended to seem less annoyed than he had been a month ago. He rarely spoke to me except to request parts or equipment, much like Heero, but I had also caught him glancing at me, or watching me work. It unnerved me, almost as if he still didn't trust me, even after all the work I was doing to prove myself. I much preferred him annoyed – at least I could deal with that. 

It had been close to another month now; my broken ribs were nearly fully healed. My scars had darkened but still burned brighter than the rest of my skin, and my hair had grown just enough to be annoyingly unruly. I had just finished working on a particularly unhappy piece of radio equipment, probably so complicated because it was meant for long-range communications and had been burned out fairly completely. I shoved it aside, my victory immediately forgotten as I began work on a burned-out circuit board for Sandrock's stealth RADAR. It was the first piece of a mobile suit that I'd been allowed to work on; naturally Quatre had been the first to let me even touch anything directly related to his precious Gundam. I squinted at the board, reaching behind me for a pair of pliers. I wanted to do this right. 

My fingers found the pliers, but they also found a hand holding them, handing them to me. 

It must be Quatre, I thought, not lifting my head and bringing the pliers around to pull out a piece of wiring. It was a piece for his Gundam that I was working on, I didn't blame him if he wanted to watch.

"Thanks," I said absently, working on the next connection.

"You're welcome," Duo replied softly. 

My head snapped around to see him standing over me, a kind of resigned look in his eyes. 

My first instinct was to run, but I shoved that down within a second. 

I blinked up at him. 

"Hi," he said softly. 

"…Hi." The knuckles on the hand gripping the pliers had begun to turn white; I loosened my grip on them. 

"I was just wondering how it's going. You've been working here all morning, and I didn't see you leave for lunch," he said, his voice cool and casual but I could see something else in his eyes. 

Hope? 

I continued to try and calm the wisps of fear still swirling in my stomach; it actually seemed to be working, for once. My limbs hadn't cried out with the need to cringe away in fear. 

"…Yeah," I stammered. "I was busy… Heero needed that," I said lamely, pointing to the radio I had just fixed. 

Duo nodded. Silence fell thick around us, but only for a minute. 

"Well, I was kinda wonderin'…" he began, one hand reaching behind his head, burying itself in the base of his braid, "if you wanted to get lunch, 'cause it's three, you know, and you probably haven't eaten since this morning. You know how Quatre would yell at you." 

I caught myself smiling; I sincerely doubted Quatre would "yell" at me, but I knew what he meant – the Arabian was so insistent that I take care of myself that it was almost funny. 

"It's three?" I asked, my mind trying to grasp at something other than fear and finding his words instead. I rolled up my left sleeve with slightly grease-stained hands and looked at my watch. It was indeed three in the afternoon. 

"Yeah." 

I took a breath, looked down for a moment. 

I *knew* he didn't want to hurt me. I knew that he was "better," that he couldn't remember what he'd done, as if another person entirely had been the one to torture me. Sally had explained it in terms I had only half-understood in a call a few weeks ago; biology wasn't exactly my specialty, but what Duo had claimed had indeed been confirmed by her call – he didn't really remember doing what he'd done. It hadn't been *this* Duo that had betrayed me. 

That had been a great help in getting over the immobilizing terror I'd been trying to push down. But the sight of him still set it off, and I was working even now to keep myself sane. 

But… The best way to face a fear was to do just that - *face* it. I had to give him *some* sort of a chance. It would never be like it was before, I could never be that close to him again, but… 

If Quatre had taught me anything, it was that everyone deserved another chance. I owed my life to that. 

The Duo that I remembered, the one that had come before the one that had wanted to hurt me – 

The one that had… he had done so much for me… 

*He* deserved another chance.

I looked up. 

"Yeah, sure," I said, and pushed myself up off the floor. "I am kinda hungry." 

Duo looked shocked for an instant; then his face broke out into a wide grin. But I could see the relief behind it. It sparked in his eyes as he let me walk before him to climb the ladder out of the bay and head up to the kitchen.

We entered the kitchen wordlessly; it was empty and he went over to the refrigerator, pulling the door open and peering inside. 

"Ummm…" he hummed, his voice casual but I could tell he was straining to make it so. "How about pizza? There's some leftover from the other day; it's all your major food groups in one fell swoop…" 

"Sure," I replied softly, going over to the cabinets and pulling down two plates in an attempt to occupy myself before the fear had a chance to well up again. Because I didn't *want* to be afraid of him. 

And so it was after a few minutes that I found myself seated across the table from Duo, staring at a plate of pizza. He sat, eyeing me worriedly, his smile doing nothing to hide the worry from his face. 

I supposed I didn't blame him. If he… if he truly couldn't remember what he'd done, then he had every reason to feel that way. To wonder why things couldn't be as they were. But I was drowning in the fear of my memories – some of the only memories I *could* grasp hold of, ironically enough. Just another token of Giniko's presence in my life. Just another thing she had stained with that feral smile of hers. 

The pizza sat untouched, the air hung unmoving, and the silence hung unbroken. It was weighing down on me, getting to me almost as much as the fear was, until it had overwhelmed even that and I had to speak. 

"Duo, I – " 

"You don't have to say anything," he said, shaking his head slightly. "I guess… I guess I know why you can't forgive me. I… you…" 

His eyes traveled from my face down my arms; I'd rolled up the sleeves of my worksuit, and the scars still crossed my skin, pale and evident in the sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows. 

I sighed. "Duo," I said; his eyes snapped back up to meet mine, the worry still hanging clearly in those deep blue irises. "I… it's not that I don't *want* to forgive you. I *do*. I do so badly – " 

"Then just do it!" he insisted, his voice desperate and nothing at all like the voice of the Duo I wanted to remember. 

I could suddenly feel a sliver of fear slipping away, seeping out in the wake of the terrible feeling that wanted to well up at the sight of him looking so lost, sounding so desperate for me to stop hating him – 

I felt so terrible – there was this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach, this longing when I looked at him and I wanted only to make him stop hurting –

But if I felt that way, then hadn't I already forgiven him? 

Maybe…. 

Maybe that was it. I couldn't feel this terrible for someone that I was afraid of. Because it wasn't *this* Duo that I was afraid of, after all. This Duo, sitting right here before me, was making me believe that the fear and hurt and desperation in his eyes were real. Not like the Duo before, not like the one with the knives and that sickly sweet smile. Not like the one with the eyes that held nothing human. 

This *wasn't* that Duo. 

I smiled. A weak, timid smile, but I managed it nonetheless. The trickle of fear that had been slowly winding its way out of my mind was growing into a stream, a larger flow, and my stomach was beginning to calm itself. The fear *was* fading, chased away by the thought of making the worry and fear in his own eyes leave. Maybe that *was* it. That *was* what this was all about. 

"Maybe I have," I said softly. "I… I don't want to see you this way. Any more than you want to feel this way, I'm sure." 

A real smile broke through. "Damn right." 

I looked down. But even if I could forgive him – even then, he had to know… 

"It's not going to work out, though. I can't… we can't just be what we were. I can't…" I looked up at him, and despite the loss I felt, I knew this had to be said, this had to be the way things were. "I can't stay with you. I can't do it. I…" 

He looked down, shoved his pizza idly around his plate for a moment. "I know, Aly," he said finally. "I think I knew that. I'm sorry I was so… I'm sorry." 

"Me too," I replied softly. 

He looked up, and the sadness in those eyes was intertwined with hope. Happiness, of a sort. 

"Well then, why don't we just be friends?" he asked. "We can do that, right?" 

I nodded. "I think so." 

His smile was contagious. And I was glad of it – I had missed that smile, I realized. 

And I had missed being *able* to smile. 

"Good." He ginned, and attacked his pizza. 

I shook my head slightly and turned to my own food. That was it, then. Nothing more had to be said. 

We could be friends. And that would have to be enough. 


	20. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Not mine, not even when they live in my room and take up my bed and eat my food… 

Disclaimer: Not mine, not even when they live in my room and take up my bed and eat my food… 

AN: OhmiGod – look! It's…. it's an ending!!! But gee, guess what, I'm already writing another one… ;O I can just hear you, yelling for me to stop already…! ;) 

  
Walking The Dividing Line

Part 20

Epilogue

"Have you thought about changing your name?" 

"Hm?" I twisted around to look at Quatre, pulling the large welder's goggles up off my eyes, blinking at him in the shadowed crevasse of Sandrock's Cockpit. We were crammed back-to-back into the tight space, working together to reconnect the controls for the left arm back into the cockpit's motherboard. The connections had been fried during his last mission, when he'd had a close call with a missile. The arm had been a mess – it had taken a week of full-time repair to get this far.

"Changing your name," he repeated, eyes flashing through the goggles he was wearing; his cheeks were smudged with grease. I was sure mine were as well. "I mean… I know you're not even really who you used to be. And maybe… it would be easier to forget. Not that you haven't," he added quickly. "But… a new beginning. Maybe you deserve that." 

I smiled. He was always so concerned…. 

And then my mind turned to his words. 'A new beginning…'

"No…" I mused, still turning his idea over in my mind, considering the option he'd just presented to me. "You're right… I'm *not* whoever I was… and I won't ever be that person. I'm not Alison anymore – at least, not the person she started out as."   
Quatre nodded, turning around momentarily to pull another piece of solder from the roll behind him. "Just something I was thinking about," he said softly. 

I nodded, and pulled the goggles back over my eyes. 

"I don't know about deserving that," I said, turning back around to my half of the cockpit, "but I can't say I wouldn't like it." 

***

"Koji." 

Quatre and Trowa were sitting at the kitchen table, discussing something about their next mission. Two pairs of green eyes rose to meet mine as I spoke. 

"Koji?" Quatre repeated. 

I nodded. 

Trowa was silent for a moment more. "Orphan," he said, as if turning its meaning over in his mind, testing it.

Quatre looked from his companion back to me. 

"I thought it kind of fit," I told him, shrugging slightly. "Since I'm kind of an orphan after all of this. In a way. It's hard to pick a name – especially for *yourself*. You have no idea!" 

He smiled at that. "I think I like it," he said after a moment. 

I smiled back. "Well, then, I guess I just have to see if it sticks." 

"Koji," Quatre smiled, before suddenly standing up and coming over to me, standing in the doorway. "But you know, you're not really an orphan anymore." 

I blinked at him, surprised by his soft tone, by whatever I saw in his eyes. 

"You're welcome here for as long as you want to stay, you know that," he went on. 

I nodded. "I… I know. But thank you. For everything, Quatre. You – I owe you my life. More than a few times over." 

He shook his head slightly, the soft kitchen lights flashing through his irises as he did so. "Forget about it," he replied. "You don't owe me anything. Just be happy." 

I nodded. "I am. I like it here. I like helping you guys. I like being worth something."

He was still smiling. "Well then," he said, "welcome home, Koji." 

The End


End file.
